"I hear a sound," said Falconer, who, lover-like, was still loitering on deck, and restlessly musing over the hazel-eyed Sybilla, from whom he calculated he was now only about eight or ten miles distant. "Willie," said he, "that sound is like the ringing of metal, or is it the deid bell in my ear?"
"I would hope not," replied the gunner; "for if it is sae, some o' us will be slipping our cables before day-dawn."
"There it is again—no imaginary, but a solid bell, and it rings in the mist. Can it be the Inchcape?"
"Nay, Sir David; the moon is in the west, and the tide in ebbing, so by the soundings we should ha'e the Buddon-ness about three miles off on our lee-bow."
"And the Inchcape Bell?"
"About eight miles to windward. Ewhow, sirs! there are the top-gallant sails of a large vessel glinting in the moonlight and aboon the mist like snaw on a hill-top; a pint o' sack to a pint o' bilge, it is the English captain! Call up Robert Barton—pass the word to the admiral!"
The arquebussier who stood on guard near Jacob's ladder passed this intelligence through the door of the poop, and in a moment Captain Barton and Sir Andrew came on deck. As all sailors do, they first glanced at the compass, and then cast their gaze aloft, to see that all the sails were full.
"How does she bear?" asked Sir Andrew.
"About a mile off, on the lee-bow, between us and the Gaa sands."
"Gadzooks! her draught of water must be small."