The Capsina, too, had seen it, and called out to him:
"Saints in heaven! What is it? What is it?" she cried. "No, not the ship—the other. Is it the spirits of those from Elatina?"
But Mitsos was no longer there. He had seen that great gray column, and known it for a water-spout, and, without a moment's pause, he had rushed forward and told them to load the six-pounder in the starboard bow. Ammunition was stored forward, and, though it seemed to him that he waited through the suspense of a lifetime, in a few seconds the gun was loaded, and he waited again, the fuse in his hand.
The darkness was intense; from the blackness came only the hoarse scream of the wind and the threats and buffets of the sea. But soon he saw against the blackness the glimmering column of gray, and he could hear above the riot of the storm a drip as from a thousand house-roofs. It came on in a slightly slanting direction, and, waiting till it began to cut across the muzzle of the gun, he fired.
And with a crash of many waters the gray column vanished.
The Capsina had followed him forward, and as the smoke cleared away he saw her eye dancing, and she slapped the brazen side of the gun.
"There will be more work for you to-night!" she cried. "Well, Mitsos, gone is the gray ghost. But the ship remains."
Mitsos sat still a moment, the strain and responsibility of his aim left him unnerved. But almost instantly he recovered himself.
"You will give chase to-night?" said he, incredulously.
"Why not?"