One bell struck, and there they sat; two bells, and there they still sat; and there was but little conversation after this. Three bells struck, and they sat on, so motionless that Ishmael hoped they had fallen asleep on their watch and he refrained from addressing them. Four bells struck. It was two o'clock in the morning, and dead silence reigned in the ladies' cabin. Everyone except Ishmael had gone to sleep.
Suddenly through the stillness a cry rang—a joyous cry. It was the voice of the man on the lookout, and it shouted forth:
"Land ho!"
"Where away?" called another voice.
"On her lee bow!"
"What do you make of it?"
"Cape Safety lighthouse!"
A shout went up from the passengers on deck. A simultaneous, involuntary, joyous three times three.
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"
A devout thanksgiving ascended from Ishmael's heart: