Explore "The Ends of Justice" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
None but the trained eyes of a sailor could have made anything of the black speck in the drifting cloud of the smoke away to the north. It was still a long distance away, but if the present breeze continued the Psyche had the foot of her quarry.
"We can pick her up in two hours or so, given a steady breeze," Brown said. "Few ordinary steamers are as fast as the Psyche in a good wind.