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“How did you know that steamer wanted a pilot?” I asked him.

“I could tell by the way she was heading.”

“Do you think she saw you?”

“Yes.”

“Can you always tell when a steamer so far off wants a pilot?”

“Nearly always. If we can’t judge by her course we can see through the telescope whether she has a signal for a pilot flying.”

“And when you go aboard her what will you do?”

“Go to the bridge and direct her course.”

“Do you take the wheel or do any work?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your breakfast?”

“I’ll take that with the officers of the deck.”

“Do you always carry a bundle of papers?”

“Sure. The officers and passengers like to get early news of New York. Sometimes the papers are pretty old before we hand them out, but they’re better than nothing.”

He studied the approaching steamer closely through the glass.

“The Ems,” he said laconically. “Get the yawl ready, boys.”

Four sailors went to the lee side and righted the boat there. The great vessel was plowing toward us at a fine rate. Every minute she grew larger, until at half a mile she seemed quite natural.