"Pipe all hands to stations."
Once again whistles trilled. The entire crew of the battleship was being called to stations, for again the commanding officer had seen the warning signals shooting up into the sky. Powerful glasses were being leveled at the black abyss ahead, but as yet the officers, of whom there was now quite a group assembled on the bridge, were unable to make out anything on the sea, save the mountains of water that were leaping toward them.
"We must be nearing the place, Mr. Coates," shouted the captain in the ear of his executive officer. "Keep a sharp lookout now. We don't want to have a collision with an old water-logged hulk in this gale. We should run an excellent chance of going to the bottom ourselves."
"Yes, sir," agreed Mr. Coates, as, raising his megaphone, he warned all lookouts to be on their guard.
Sam Hickey, proud in the consciousness that he had been the first to sight the signals of distress, was scanning the troubled seas with keen eyes, from which now and then he brushed the salt brine with an impatient hand.
"If I could see, I'd see," he complained to himself. "I wonder if they have turned out Dan. He knows where I am anyway. There she blows!" suddenly shouted the red-haired boy.
"He's sighted a whale," laughed a young midshipman.
"What do you mean?" roared the captain.
"Light dead ahead, sir. Rocket again, sir."
"Aye, aye," was the answer from the bridge.