was handy, but otherwise they were to attend to the sailing of the Searchlight.
Provisions, to use Tom's way of expressing it, were now "more than low," and as they ate the scant food dealt around, Dick could not help but think of how Dora might be faring.
"I'd willingly starve myself if only it would give her what she needs," he thought. It made him sick at heart to think of how she might be suffering.
Mile after mile was passed, until the sun began to descend over to the westward. The yachts were now close on to quarter of a mile apart.
"Here comes another steamer!" cried Tom presently. "Look here, why can't we get some help from her?"
"Perhaps we can!" burst out Dick. "I never thought of that."
"Let us signal her anyway," suggested Sergeant Brown.
A flag was run up as high as the topmast permitted, and they headed directly for the steamer's course.
As the ship came closer they made her out to be a big "tramp" from the South American trade. For the benefit of those who do not know, let me state that a "tramp" steamer is one going from one port to another regardless of any regular
