The sea flopped in the moon. Here and there a gathering swell hissed into foam. The Tremendous scarcely felt it; but the lugger lay over on her side, seams dripping, and thrashed furiously along.
Her crew, squatting along the weather gunwale, turned bowed and shining backs to the sloop.
Only the man at the tiller had seen her; and he made no sign.
The moon was on his face, black and white and bearded; and his eyes on the sloop.
"Calm chap!" whispered one.
"Plucky meat," replied another. "Guts like a lion on him."
"Which is Black Diamond?" asked the boy.
"Him at the tiller, sir—moon on his face. He's seen us. 'Tothers ain't—not yet."
The Tremendous crashed into a sea. The aftmost man on the lugger's gunwale turned.
He saw the Avenger towering over him, dark wings spread, snow-drifts spurting before her.