“Yes, yes!” cried the girls.

The huge red and black funnels belching clouds of dense black smoke were now plainly visible, as were the towering upperworks of the ship, and the bridge high in the air.

“Swing in,” commanded the “Sue’s” skipper.

Harriet put the helm hard over.  The sloop responded quickly.  Now the spray dashed over the boat in a drenching shower, bringing shouts of glee from the Meadow-Brook Girls.  The move in a few minutes brought them so close to the big ship that the girls could look into the fresh sea-blown faces of the passengers who crowded the rails on that side of the liner.  It seemed as if the sloop must crash into the side of the larger boat.  Harriet glanced inquiringly at Captain Billy, who nodded encouragingly, from which she understood that there was no cause for alarm.

The girls were now waving their handkerchiefs and shouting to the amazed passengers, who could not understand why a party in so frail a craft should be met with far out to sea, how far few of those on the ship knew.  They did know that they were out of sight of land, which made the marvel all the greater.

“Point in closer,” commanded Captain Billy.

Harriet swung in still more.  The “Sister Sue” buried her nose in the foamy, eddying wake of the liner close under the counter, so close, in fact, that the girls could see the water boiling over the twin propellers and hear their beat.  The next moment they had passed her and were on the open, rolling sea again, with the big ship threshing her way toward New York, rapidly widening the gap between herself and the venturesome little craft.  For the moment that they had been blanketed by the steamer their sails had flattened and they had lost headway, but now the wind picked them up, the sails bellied and the little sloop continued on her way.

“We must turn now,” said the skipper, consulting the skies, which he swept with a comprehensive glance.  He gave Harriet the return course.  “I fear we are going to lose the wind.  It will pick up later, however.  No need to be anxious.”  He stepped inside the cabin and, leaning forward, consulted the barometer.  Harriet noted that his face wore a look of anxiety for the moment.  But it had entirely disappeared when he returned to the deck.  Once more he swept the horizon.

“How is the glass?” she asked, but in a voice too low for her companions to hear.  Harriet referred to the barometer.

“It has fallen over an inch in two hours,” answered Captain Billy.

“That is a big drop, isn’t it?”

“I should say so.  But don’t say anything to the others,” he added, with a quick glance at the girls to see if any had overheard either his or Harriet Burrell’s remarks.

“It means a blow, does it not?”

“Yes.  But it may be a long way off, possibly a hundred miles or more.”

“Then, again, we may be right in the center of it?” she questioned.