Even as it was, his eyelids drooped almost to the closing point as he leaned there over the rail. But he was not asleep.
After some minutes Dave opened his eyes wider, straightened up and glanced out sharply over the water, on which objects were not now so clearly visible as they had been at midnight.
“That sounded like a paddle,” Darrin told himself, then added, in a low voice:
“Sentry!”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the marine, in a low voice, at the same time giving the rifle salute.
“I thought I heard a boat approaching yonder. Keep your eye open for any kind of craft coming near.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
It was Ensign Darrin who discovered a small, outrigger canoe stealing forward in the night. Two seconds later the marine also reported it. Calling the nearest sailor to him, Dave gave him brief, whispered instructions which sent the young man slipping noiselessly forward.
“Shall I hail that craft, sir?” whispered the sentry, standing stiffly beside the young officer.
“Not yet,” Dave rejoined. Both stood there, watching keenly. Few landsmen, on such a night, would have been able to make out so small a craft at such a distance. Those who follow the sea are trained to cat-like vision.