“Four bells,” he said, looking at the clock.
“Well, boys all, it is time to turn in.”
“But, captain, not before we return thanks to Heaven for our marvellous escape from cruel death. He—our Father—you know, gave us the victory.” This from Sister Leona.
“In that case,” said Antonio, “let us call all hands aft.”
The men gladly gathered in, and no more solemn little service was perhaps ever held at sea.
It was Davie’s watch, and he now retired to walk the deck till midnight, Barclay going with him for company’s sake.
The moon, which was but a waning one, had not yet risen, and the night was very dark, for thick black clouds obscured the sky, and seemed to be banked up on all sides and close aboard of the doomed ship.
There was hardly a breath of wind, and the deep mysterious silence was almost awesome.
Scarcely did our two boy heroes care to speak above a whisper.
Sometimes they paused in their walk and leant over the bulwark listening.