It was plain that she was bent on
crossing our bows. What was more, she was dangerously near--the size and
brightness of her light showed that. She would be close-hauled, while we
were going free, so that, of course, it was our place to get out of her
way. Instantly, I turned and, putting my hands up to my mouth, hailed
the Second Mate:
"Light on the port bow, Sir."
The next moment his hail came back:
"Whereabouts?"
"He must be blind," I said to myself.
"About two points on the bow, Sir," I sung out.
Then I turned to see whether she had shifted her position at all. Yet,
when I came to look, there was no light visible. I ran forrard to the
bows, and leant over the rail, and stared; but there was nothing--
absolutely nothing except the darkness all about us. For perhaps a few
seconds I stood thus, and a suspicion swept across me, that the whole
business was practically a repetition of the affair of the morning.
Evidently, the impalpable something that invested the ship, had thinned
for an instant, thus allowing me to see the light ahead.
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