CHAPTER XIV. THE MARTHA
They were deep in a game of billiards the next morning, after the eleven o’clock breakfast, when Viaburi entered and announced,—
“ Big fella schooner close up.”
Even as he spoke, they heard the rumble of chain through hawse-pipe, and from the veranda saw a big black-painted schooner, swinging to her just-caught anchor.
“ It’s a Yankee,” Joan cried. “See that bow! Look at that elliptical stern! Ah, I thought so—” as the Stars and Stripes fluttered to the mast-head.
Noa Noah, at Sheldon’s direction, ran the Union Jack up the flagstaff.
“ Now what is an American vessel doing down here?” Joan asked. “It’s not a yacht, though I’ll wager she can sail. Look! Her name! What is it?”
“ Martha , San Francisco,” Sheldon read, looking through the telesco
