“We must leave further search till morning,” muttered the captain; and giving his order, signal lamps were run up to recall the boats; and before very long they were answered, and the lanthorns of Bosun Jones’ boat could soon after be seen heading slowly for the ship, the second boat following her example a few minutes later.
“No signs of them, Mr Jones?” said the captain, as his warrant officer reached the deck to report himself.
“No, sir,” said the boatswain, sadly; “but I heard a sound, and one of my men heard it too.”
“A sound? What sound?”
“Like a faint cry of distress, sir.”
“Yes; and what did you make of that?”
The boatswain was silent a moment.
“The harbour here swarms with sharks, sir, and the cry sounded to me like that of a man being drawn under water.”
“No, no; no, no; not so bad as that,” said the captain, rather excitedly. “They’ve got to shore, and we will have them back to-morrow. The people will give them up either by threats or bribes.”
“I hope so, sir,” said the boatswain, coldly. And, then, as he went below, “Poor lad! I’d have given a year of my life rather than it should have happened. This pressing is like a curse to the service.”