"Dear me, how interesting," said the young lady. "You have crossed many times, I suppose, Mr. Spinner." "Oh, I know my way about," answered the modest Spinner. The captain kept the glasses glued to his eyes. Suddenly he almost let them drop. "My God! Johnson," he cried. "What is it, sir?" "_She's_ flying a signal of distress, _too_!" The two steamers slowly approached each other and, when nearly alongside and about a mile apart, the bell of the Adamant rang to stop. "There, you see," said young Spinner to the Boston girl, "she is flying the same flag at her masthead that we are." "Then she belongs to the same line as this boat?" "Oh, certainly," answered Mr. Cock-Sure Spinner. "Oh, look! look! look!" cried the enthusiastic Indianapolis girl who was going to take music in Germany. Everyone looked aloft and saw running up to the masthead a long line of fluttering, many-colored flags. They remained in place for a few moments and then fluttered down again, only to give place to a different string. The same thing was going on on the other steamer. "Oh, this is too interesting for anything," said Mrs. Assistant. "I am just dying to know what it all means. I have read of it so often but never saw it before. I wonder when the captain will come down. What does it all mean?" she asked the deck steward. "They are signalling to each other, madam." "Oh, I know _that_. But what _are_ they signalling?" "I don't know, madam." "Oh, see! see!" cried the Indianapolis girl, clapping her hands with delight. "The other steamer is turning round." It was indeed so. The great ship was thrashing the water with her screw, and gradually the masts came in line and then her prow faced the east again. When this had been slowly accomplished the bell on the Adamant rang full speed ahead, and then the captain came slowly down the ladder that led from the bridge. "Oh, captain, what does it all mean?" "Is she going back, captain? Nothing wrong, I hope." "What ship is it, captain?" "She belongs to our line, doesn't she?" "Why is she going back?" "The ship," said the captain slowly, "is the Vulcan, of the Black Bowling Line, that left Queenstown shortly after we left New York. She has met with an accident. Ran into some wreckage, it is thought, from the recent storm. Anyhow there is a hole in her, and whether she sees Queenstown or not will depend a great deal on what weather we have and whether her bulkheads hold out. We will stand by her till we reach Queenstown." "Are there many on board, do you think, captain?" "There are thirty-seven in the cabin and over 800 steerage passengers," answered the captain. "Why don't you take them on board, out of danger, captain?" "Ah, madam, there is no need to do that. It would delay us, and time is everything in a case like this. Besides, they will have ample warning if she is going down and they will have time to get everybody in the boats. We will stand by them, you know."