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Updated: May 24, 2025
And still no sign of a sail. At half past ten a smoke-feather rose in the east. "Yarmouth boat on her way to Boston," said Jim. "She'll pass too far north to see us." He was right. The steamer's course kept her on the horizon, several miles off. Before long she vanished to the west. Half past eleven went by, and no fishermen appeared. Percy began to fear that Jim was mistaken, after all.
As Percy reached this point his eye was caught by a smoke-feather on the southern horizon. Steamers always interested him. Stopping, and shading his eyes with his hand, he gazed intently at the distant vessel. The Barracouta was now just entering the cove; the thudding of her exhaust echoed loudly against the barrier of earth beneath his feet.
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