“Yes,” said Cross slowly, “you are quite right, Ikey Gregg. It’s a sign.”
“What’s a sign?” asked Rodd, coming up.
“The—the—Bun—Ikey Gregg says it is a sign, sir, that we see that big squirming wormy thing, and I says he’s quite right, sir. It is a sign.”
“Why, what can it be a sign of, Joe?”
“Sea’s calm, sir, and that brings all the shoals of young fish up to the top to feed, and that there thing that feeds on them come up to the top to get a regular tuck out.”
“Oh, that won’t do,” said Gregg the fat. “Things like that only come up to the top at particular times, and you mark my words, it means a storm.”
As the man finished, he turned his eyes to right and left, scanning the beautiful silvery water before him, and then uttering a loud yell, he dashed by his companions, made for the forecastle hatch, and without troubling himself about the steps, leaped right down.
“What’s the matter with Ikey?” said one of the men. “Showing us how he can jump?”
“Nonsense!” said Rodd. “It was as if he had been scared by something. He looked quite wild.”
The boy walked close up to the rail and looked over, to see that the whole of the water right away from the bows was apparently ablaze with fire; but for a time he could make out nothing else, in spite of its crystal clearness and the way in which in addition it was laced and latticed as it were by the rays of the moon.