Looking off to the southward, Harry fancied, once or twice, that he detected a bright point of light appear through the night.
Only for an instant was it visible, when it vanished again, and he supposed it was produced by the phosphorescence of the sea, until he happened to be gazing directly toward the point where it appeared, when it struck him that its appearance was different from that. It was more like the glimmering of a star, that is shut out at intervals by some dark body coming between it and the observer, to reäppear again in a few moments.
While Harry was puzzling his brains over the singular appearance of this light, somebody slapped him upon the shoulder, causing him to turn with a suddenness that almost threw him off his feet.
In the murky gloom, he was barely able to make out a human figure, which he suspected was that of the captain.
“Come, my boy, you had better go below!” he called out, in a cheery voice.
“Can you tell me what that light means?” Harry inquired.
“Where? I don’t see any,” replied the officer, halting by his side.
“It is gone now—there it is again. Look! it seems like a star!”
“Oh, that! Why that’s the binnacle light of another boat.”
“Do you know what one it is?” asked the lad, with a vague but terrible misgiving freezing his heart.