"There isn't time to send word to Mr. Weatherby now," he thought. "I'll wait until I pass that ship. Then I'll go below, for I'm getting nervous here."
The two vessels were approaching nearer and nearer to each other. If Nat had been aware that the ship he was about to pass was the one on which was his enemy, the mate, doubtless he would have been more nervous than he was.
"He seems to be crowding too close over this way," thought Nat. "Guess I'll give him a caution signal."
He pulled the whistle wire sharply. Short blasts came forth from the Mermaid's hoarse siren. To Nat's surprise the other vessel, instead of keeping away from him, in the narrow channel, seemed to be coming closer.
"Doesn't he know enough to keep away, and on his own course?" said the young pilot half aloud.
He waited with an anxiously beating heart, and at the same time looked around to see if anybody else was near.
"Oh, if only Mr. Weatherby was here now!" he told himself. Never had he missed the old pilot so much as at this moment. For one instant he thought of yelling for assistance, but knew it would be useless, for his voice would not carry far enough. He was in sole charge and must do the best he could.
"Perhaps that other pilot is drunk," he murmured, and then shut his teeth hard. He was "up against it good and hard," and he realized it only too well. He trembled in spite of himself, and an icy chill began to creep up and down his backbone.
He gave another signal. Then, as he watched, he saw the prow of the other vessel turn toward him.
"He's going to ram me!" exclaimed Nat.