"A Chinaman isn't in it alongside of a Japanese," came from Captain Ponsberry. "The Japanese are up-to-date and very progressive; the Chinese are about a hundred years behind the times."
The storm continued for the best part of half a day. There was but little thunder and lightning, but the wind blew a perfect gale. Yet even the Pocastra did not seem to mind the wind, and all three of the warships proceeded on their way at only a slightly reduced rate of speed.
"Such a gale as this will play havoc with the sailing vessels," said Larry. "I wonder how the old Columbia is making out?"
"I was thinking that same," rejoined Captain Ponsberry. "To tell the truth, I'd rather have her go to the bottom than see her taken to a Russian port as a prize."
When the storm cleared away, Larry was one of the first to go on deck, to get a whiff of "washed air," as he called it. The others followed.
"I see a sail!" cried the youth, a moment later, and at that instant came a cry from the lookout. Far to the eastward was a sailing vessel flying a signal of distress.
"She looks familiar to me!" ejaculated Captain Ponsberry, and ran to get Captain Tonkaka's glass. One glance through the instrument was enough.
