“Aye, and draggin’ fast as some vessels ever sail.”
Again a shadow, and from out of the night inarticulate voices—voices that grew in volume, rang loud, louder yet—not so loud, muffled, yet more muffled, quiet again—voices as if from another world, not to be clearly distinguished. “Did anybody catch what they said?”
“Nobody? Well, that’s their end.”
“God help ’em, yes.”
“Sixteen fathom, Skipper.”
“Sixteen! We cert’nly can’t be weatherin’ it much.”
“Lord, I should say not. And seas to swallow us alive. Looks bad for us, too, don’t it, Skipper?”
“Looks bad for who? Dry up! There’s a whole ocean to the east’ard of us—how’s she pointin’?”
“Su’the-east by east.”
“Su’the-east by east? That the best the old whelp can do? That means she’ll point no better than no’the by west when we jibe her. Try and hold her up.”