I looked in the direction he indicated, and there, upon our lower-mast-head, and also upon the trysail gaff-end, was a globe of pale, sickly green light, which wavered to and fro, lengthening out and flattening in again as the cutter tossed wildly over the mountainous seas.
It had not the appearance of flame, but rather of highly luminous mist, brilliant at the core, and softening off and becoming more dim as the circumference of the globe was reached; and it emitted a feeble and unearthly light of no great power.
I had never seen such a thing before, but I had often heard of it, and I recognised our strange visitors at once as corposants, or “lamps of Saint Elmo,” as they are called by the seamen of the Mediterranean; though our own sailors call them by the less dignified name of “Davy Jones’ lanterns.”
“What d’ye think of bein’ boarded by the likes of that?” again queried Bob, in a hoarse whisper. “Old Davy is out on a cruise to-night, I reckon; and it looks as though he meant to pay us a visit, by his h’isting them two lanterns of his’n in our rigging. Did ye ever see anything like it afore, Harry, lad?”
“Never,” replied I, “but I have often heard them spoken of, old man; and though they certainly are rather queer to look at, they are easily accounted for. I have heard, it said that they are the result of a peculiar electrical condition of the atmosphere, and that the electricity, attracted by any such points as the yard-arms or mast-heads of a ship, accumulates there until it becomes visible in the form we are now looking at.”
“And is the light never visible except at the end of a spar?” queried Bob.
“I believe not,” I replied; “but—”
“Then sail ho!” exclaimed Bob excitedly, pointing in the direction of our starboard-bow.
I looked in the direction he indicated, but was too late: we were on the very summit of a wave at the moment that Bob spoke, but were now settling into the trough. As we rose to the next sea, however, I not only saw the ghostly light, but also got an indistinct view of the ship herself.
She was fearfully close, but appeared to be at the moment sheering away from us. She looked long enough for a three-masted vessel, but one mast only was standing, evidently the mainmast. The corposant appeared to have attached itself to the stump of her foremast, which had been carried away about fifteen or twenty feet from the deck, and I thought her bowsprit seemed also to be missing.