One or two reflections upon his sanity finally led the angry officer to take from his desk the New York paper which Captain Penniman had given him. He spread it out before the eyes of the now amazed newspaper men. Then he gave them a plump invitation to leave the office. Not another word would he say to them. The delegation lost no time now in going to the dock where the _Mystery_ lay. They were still incredulous, but bewildered. They had a good deal of difficulty in getting aboard; but Captain Penniman had been more than half expecting them, and when word was passed to him he invited them to inspect the ship. They were even more interested than the collector had been by what they saw. They were still skeptical, however, about the speed of the vessel. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, gentlemen,” said the captain suddenly. “The distance from here to the Lizard is 110 miles. It is now 11:30. We’ve nothing special to do this afternoon. We can cast off in five minutes, run to within sight of Lizard Light, and be back here in time for you to take an early evening train to the city. Then you can see for yourselves what the _Mystery_ can do.” There was a chorus of approval, and ten minutes later the ship was under way. She ran down the Solent at a speed that amazed not only the visitors on board, but all on shore or afloat who watched the strange ship. Not until the Needles had been passed and the open sea was before her did the beautiful vessel fully rouse herself. By this time her draught and weight had been perfectly adjusted for the best work. Journalistic cynicism and _blasé_ indifference were not proof against what followed. The excitement of an international yacht race was tame in comparison with the exhilaration of the _Mystery’s_ marvelous speed. The group of correspondents gathered upon the bridge, and sheltered themselves behind the breast-high canvas against the gale which the motion of the ship seemed to create. They were almost silent for some time after the captain had turned the indicator to “full speed.” The swift panorama of the shore, the flashing past in dizzy succession of the nearer waves, the lashing of the strange hurricane in the midst of a sea almost smooth, the throbbing, pulsing tremors of the living ship beneath them, created new emotions which silenced comment. The ship’s prow was pointed to the west, and she leaped forward as if some strange magnetism was drawing her back to the land which had given her birth. The sea welcomed her, embraced her for a moment, and sped her on. The waves opened a path for her without violence, and marked it in silvery white like the tail of a comet, as far back as the eye could reach. Neptune bowed his trident before her and became a willing vassal. The winds alone rebelled and strove to hold her back.