Nickerson knocked his pipe out on the rail and stretched himself. “Alright, son, think it over, and say—nip along for’ard an’ see ef them light-tower windows ain’t covered with snow or ice. Those mole-eyed lookouts ’ud never think of giving ’em a look-over even though they’ll hail ‘the lights are burnin’ bright!’”
As the skipper surmised, the glasses of the side-light towers were filmed with frozen spray and the lights were barely visible. Donald cleared them and had hardly done so before he made out the ghostly loom of a large ship ahead. No side-lights were visible, but he needed no second look to convince him it was a ship close-hauled and not a trick of the imagination. The look-out, coming up from a stolen visit to the fo’c’sle, saw it too and yelled.
Donald, knowing that a running ship must keep clear of a vessel close-hauled, shouted, “Hard down! Hard down! Ship dead ahead!” Nickerson must have heard him and acted, as the Kelvinhaugh swung up to the wind and the watch tumbled up to the braces and trimmed the yards as she came up. The other vessel careered past—a big, deep-laden three-masted ship with painted ports—and as she went by to loo’ard, a voice sung out, “What ship?”
“Kelvinhaugh—Clyde for Vancouver! What—ship—is—that?”
“Craig Royston—Frisco to Falmouth!” And she was swallowed up in the night.
“Weather braces!” came the command from the poop, and the Kelvinhaugh swung on her course again—her crew having heard the first strange voice in four long and weary months.
When McKenzie came aft again, the skipper met him. “Smart boy!” he complimented. “I just h’ard ye in time. Another minute and that feller would ha’ bin slap-bang into us or us into him. Go down in the cabin an’ rouse that skulkin’ stoo’ard aout an’ tell him to make a mug-up for the two of us!”
With such small rewards were deeds of vigilance, nerve and hardihood commended—a cup of tea and a piece of soggy cake or a cabin biscuit! At sea, however, on a deep-water ship, one is thankful for small mercies, and to men and boys who lived as the Kelvinhaugh’s did, a little bit of warming fire, a mite of extra food, and a cup of indifferent tea stood out in the monotonous drudgery of sea-life as pleasant sensations and bright reminiscences in the midst of drab memories.