“Now, quartermaster, mind your eye.  When the officer of the deck says, ‘Turn,’ you repeat the word after him, to show that you are alive,” continued Peaks.

“Ready!” said Gordon.

“Ready!” replied Smith.

The lieutenant threw the chip into the water, and when the stray line had run off, he gave the word to turn the glass.

“Turn!” repeated Smith.

Gordon eased off the log-line, so that nothing should prevent it from running easily.

“Up!” shouted Smith; and Gordon stopped the line.

“Very well,” added Peaks.  “What’s the mark?”

“Ten and a quarter,” replied the officer.

“That sounds more like it.  I knew this ship was going more than seven knots.  You see, young gentlemen, you can’t catch flies and tend the log-line at the same time.  Now, you may try it over again.”

The experiment was repeated, with the same result.  Other officers and seamen were called to the quarter-deck, and the training in heaving the log continued, until a reasonable degree of proficiency was attained.

“Land ho!” cried the lookout on the top-gallant forecastle, at about eleven o’clock in the forenoon.

“Where away?” called the officer of the deck.

“Dead ahead, sir.”

“What is that land, Mr. Lowington?” asked Paul Kendall.

“Don’t you know?”

“I’m sure I don’t.”

“Then you should study your map more.  Look at the compass, and tell me how she heads.”

“South-east, sir,” replied Paul, after looking into the binnacle.

“Now, what land lies south-east of Brockway Harbor?” asked the principal.

“Cape Cod, I think.”

“You are right; then that must be Cape Cod.”

“Is it, really?”

“Certainly it is,” laughed Mr. Lowington.  “Have you no faith in your map?”

“I didn’t think we could be anywhere near Cape Cod.  I thought it was farther off,” added Paul, who seemed to be amazed to think they had actually crossed Massachusetts Bay.

“The land you see is Race Point, which is about forty miles from the entrance to the bay, at the head of which Brockway is located.  We have been making about ten knots an hour, and our calculations seem to be very accurate.  By one o’clock we shall come to anchor in Provincetown Harbor.”

This prediction was fully verified, and the Young America was moored off the town.  Those who had been seasick recovered as soon as the motion of the ship ceased; and when everything aloft and on deck had been made snug, the crew were piped to dinner.

In the afternoon, part of the students were permitted to go on shore; the band played, and several boat-races took place, very much to the delight of the people on shore, as well as those on board.  At six o’clock the ship was opened for the reception of visitors, who came off in large numbers to inspect the vessel.  After dark there was a brilliant display of fireworks, and the Young America blazed with blue-lights and Roman candles, set off by boys on the cross-trees, and at the yard-arms.  At ten the festivities closed, and all was still in the steerage and on deck.