American Boys Afloat by Oliver Optic

"It seems to me that I have seen that little steam-yacht before," said Louis Belgrave, as the four young Americans stood upon the promenade deck of the Guardian-Mother, of which the speaker was the owner, though the young man was only seventeen years of age.

"Be the modther of me, it's the Sally Hay! " exclaimed Felix McGavonty, the Milesian of the party, though he could pronounce the President's English as well as any of his companions when he chose to do so.

"She certainly looks just like the Salihé," added George Scott Fencelowe, whom everybody on board addressed as Scott simply: and the three who had spoken had made a voyage in the little steamer from Funchal in Madeira to Gibraltar, where the Guardian-Mother was now moored inside of the New Mole.

"You fellows who have made a long cruise in her ought to know her if she is the Salihé," said Morris Woolridge. "I never even saw her but once, and I can throw no light on the subject."

"She was painted white when we made our trip in her, and now she is the color of a black cat," continued Scott, the oldest of the party and the best sailor and boatman, for he was eighteen, while Morris, the youngest, was only fourteen.

"It seems to me to be hardly possible that she can be the Salihé, though she looks like her in everything except her color," replied Louis. "If the Fatimé were here, I should have no doubt it was she."

"But the large steam-yacht of His Highness, Ali-Noury Pacha, is not here, and we know that she passed through the strait and went to sea; and that is what makes me think the craft is not the Salihé," added Scott, who had been for a short time in the service of the Pacha, and had made the voyage in the little steamer from Funchal.

"I suppose Ali-Noury could not very well take her with him on his trip up the Mediterranean, and he left her here," suggested Louis.

"If that were true, the Pacha would not have had her painted black," reasoned Scott; and there seemed to be a good deal of force in the argument.

"Where is Philopena? " demanded Felix. "Sure, he ought to know the shtaymer if he's acquainted wid his own fadther, for he was ingineman of the craft."

Felipe Garcias, a young Spaniard of eighteen, had been the engineer of the Salihé in the service of the Pacha, and being ill-treated by his Mohammedan employer, he had run away from Mogadore with the small steam-yacht. The steam-launch which was the subject of the conversation was coming out from the dockyard inside of the New Mole, and approaching the Guardian-Mother. Felipe, who was now an oiler on board of the steamer, was called by Morris, and his attention was directed to the approaching steam-yacht. He looked her over very carefully; but the change of color evidently perplexed him at first, though a little later he came to his conclusion.

"Salihé! " he exclaimed.

When Felipe came on board of the Guardian-Mother, he could not speak a word of English; but in the time that had since elapsed he had made good progress in acquiring it, though he was not yet fluent in the use of it.

"Are you sure of it, Phil? " asked Louis, who had translated his Spanish name into English, and then abbreviated it.

"Ver sure," replied Felipe decidedly. "I see some things what I know."

"She was white when we brought her here," added Louis.

"She has become black now; but I know some marks," persisted Felipe; and he proceeded to mention and point them out; but he spoke in Spanish to Louis, who had become tolerably fluent in the language by this time.

"Why don't ye's shpake to the man forninst her poilot-house," suggested Felix. "Perhaps he knows somephwat about her."

"That's a bright idea of yours, Felix; he would be likely to know something about her," laughed the owner of the Guardian-Mother.

The Salihé was making a course within twenty feet of the side of the steamer, and it was not a difficult matter to hail her. The man in the little box that was dignified with the name of pilot-house was the only person that could be seen on board of the little steamer, though there was doubtless another in the engine-room. The boat was moving along very slowly, and the pilot seemed to be looking about him all the time and in every direction.