"By the deep, one, sir."
"As you signaled."
"Yes, sir."
"A close guess. You have a sharp eye, Davis."
The captain peered down. He could, by getting between the sun and the bow of the ship, look down to where the prow of the battleship disappeared in the white sand on the bottom of the bay.
"Do you want the divers over, sir?" called the executive officer.
"I think not, just now. It will be useless until we get her nose out of the sand. They cannot tell us any more than we know now."
The motor boat then made a tour of the ship, the captain surveying her from all points of view. The "Long Island" appeared to be resting easily, and the sea was comparatively smooth. A glance at the skies told the commanding officer that good weather might reasonably be expected for the rest of the day.
"Return to the starboard gangway," he commanded tersely.
The captain forgot to go to his luncheon that day. He paced the quarter-deck, watching the weather, receiving frequent reports from the forward end of the ship and having frequent tests made to determine the state of the tide.