“Possibly he just dropped down to see if we were ready to start north,” Case observed with a yawn.
“It looks to me,” Alex said, “that we have struck a storm center of some kind, and I’m going to bed and think it over.
“I’m glad you’re going to bed,” Clay laughed, “for you get lost whenever we leave you on watch.”
“But I always find myself!” answered Alex, with a provoking grin.
It was finally arranged that Case should stand guard that night, and the others prepared for sleep. The bunks were let down in the cabin, the prow light was switched off, and directly all was dark, save when the moon broke out from a bank of wandering clouds.
Sitting well wrapped at the door of the cabin, shortly before midnight, Clay once more heard the sweep of a paddle or an oar. He arose and went to the prow.
Off to the right, on a point of land below St. Luce, a column of flame was beckoning in the gale from the gulf. Only the flame was to be seen. There was neither habitation nor human figure in sight under its light. While the boy watched, a signal shot came from the east.
Then an answering light came from the north, and a ship’s boat, four-oared and sturdy, passed for an instant under the light of the moon and was lost in the darkness.
The rowboat had passed so close to the Rambler that the watching boy could have seen the faces of the occupants if they had not been turned away. For a moment he had feared that it was the intention of the rowers to board the Rambler, but they had passed on apparently without noticing the boat at all.
After following the boat with his eyes for an instant, he switched on the prow light and turned to the cabin to awaken his chums. Here was a new feature of the night which must be considered.