John went on the head; the bo'sun aft to report.
A proper blast! The Welshman had the trick of the wheezing 'gad jet.' ... Ah! There again! ... Three blasts, right enough! ... She would be a square rigger, running, like ourselves! ... Perhaps we were making on her! ... The sound seemed louder.... It came from ahead!
R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... R-R-R-R-R-AH! ... R-R-R-R-R-AH!
... R-r-r-r-eh! ... R-r-r-r-eh! ... R-r-r-r-eh!
The Mate was now on the alert, peering and listening. At the plain answer to our horn, he rapped out orders. "Lower away main an' fore-to'gal'ns'ls ... let 'em hang, an' lay aft and haul th' mains'l up! Come aft here, one of you boys, and call th' Captain! Tell him it's come down thick! Sharp, now!"
I went below and roused the Old Man.
"Aye ... all right," he said, feeling for his sea-boots. (South'ard of the 'forties' Old Jock slept 'all standing,' as we say.) .... "Thick, eh? ... Tell th' Mate t' keep th' horn goin'! ... A ship, ye say? ... Running, eh? ... Aye! All right ... I'll be up...."
I had scarcely reached the poop again before the Old Man was at my back. "Thick, b'Goad," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Man, man! Why was I not called before?"
The Mate muttered something about the mist having just closed in.... "Clear enough t' be goin' on before that," he said.
"Aye, aye! Where d'ye mak' this ship? Ye would see her before the mist cam' doon, eh?"