“There, take a look, Ben, and tell me if you can pick her out.”
The mate peered long and attentively through the telescope, moving it very slowly about that part of the horizon where he knew the frigate to be, but without success.
“It’s no go, boss,” he said, “my eyes are pretty good, but they’re not good enough to see through such darkness as this.”
Johnson chuckled. “Do you think,” said he, “it looks any lighter ahead? Would our sails show against that cloud-bank in the wake of the fore-mast?”
“Not they,” answered the mate confidently. “Why, it’s darker, if anything, ahead than it is astern.”
“That’s so,” agreed Johnson with another chuckle. “Now, what,” he continued, “what do you think was the last thing the skipper of that frigate did before the darkness closed down?”
“Well,” said the mate, “if he knew his business, I should say he would take our bearings.”
“And you may take your oath that’s exactly what he did,” returned Johnson. “Now, take a look round and tell me what you think of the weather.”
“The weather?” repeated the mate; “why, a child almost could tell what the weather’s going to be. We’re going to have thunder, which will bring a northerly breeze along with it while it lasts.”
“Capital!” exclaimed Johnson. “Do you think, now, that the captain of that man-o’-war astern is of the same opinion as you and I are about the weather?”