In a few moments the ship was slipping along at considerable speed between the jetties, and Galveston was only a serrated purple skyline astern...

It was a queer ship. Even though my knowledge of ships was limited to what I had acquired during a few years’ residence in a seaport city, I could see that it was an uncommonly built and arranged vessel.

There was no wheel, and no steersman! The usual site of the wheel and binnacle was occupied by a cabin with some instruments in it; nor could I find anywhere any signs of anything resembling steering-gear. How was the ship piloted? Who was watching the course? There wasn’t a lookout to be seen anywhere! Yet the ship had picked a tortuous course from its dock down the harbor and between the jetties...

For a moment, the after deck engaged my attention and made me forget my hunger. The space ordinarily occupied by officers’ quarters was filled by masses of apparatus. Through the windows and doors I could see great stacks of delicate and complicated mechanism, such as I had never dreamed of before in connection with a ship. There were clicking relays and fluttering vanes and delicate gears; little lights would go on and off, little levers would jerk, here and there, in twos and threes and dozens, and then all would be silent and motionless for an instant...