“The ground to our right looks much higher than it did, Miller. I think we must have been drifting a good deal over towards that side.”
“I think so too,” Miller agreed. “I have been fancying that we were getting over that way ever since we stopped sounding.”
“At any rate we must take our chance,” Martyn said. “I daren’t sound again; the splash would attract attention half a mile away on a quiet night like this. Besides, we could not tow her the other way now; we must take our chance. It is not likely they are keeping much of a look-out on board. We might pass within twenty yards of a vessel without being noticed on such a night as this. I will stay at the helm, Miller. Her sails are still full, and we have got steerage-way. Do you go up into the bow. Let two of the men take their boots off, and if they make out anything ahead, let one of them run to me like lightning with orders whether to port or starboard the helm.”
The conversation was carried on in the lowest tone. Miller stole lightly forward; Tarleton and Horace were already there, one on each bow, straining their eyes into the darkness.
“We are a long way over on this side, Miller, I don’t believe that high ground over there is more than two or three hundred yards away.”
“That is just what I have been saying, Tarleton. The current must have set us across tremendously. Martyn is at the helm, and you see we are heading off that shore, but I don’t think we are going more than a couple of knots through the water.”
In five minutes Tarleton whispered:
“I think there is something dark just over the cathead.”
At the same moment Horace stepped from the other side.