“On deck there!” he hailed in a little time. He had the keenest sight of any man on board.
“Ay, ay!” answered the captain. “Speak out!”
“There is something to windward, two points on the weather-bow.”
“How far?”
“About half a mile or more, sir; but it may be less.”
“We must get her a couple of points nearer the wind,” said the captain to the chief officer. “Clew up the courses, set the flying-jib, and let us get the mainsail on her, and see what she can do. Come, look smart and brace the yards round. Keep her helm up!” he added to the men at the wheel, lending them a hand as he spoke. “Hard!”
The Sea Rover leaned over, gunwales under, and made deep bows to the sea, pitching the water over her fore-yard, as, her head being brought round a couple of points more, she sailed almost in the wind’s-eye, taking all that two men could do to steer her, besides the captain.
“Aloft there!” shouted the captain once more to the lookout men. “How’s her head now? Does she bear towards the object, or is it still to windward?”
“Steady!” was the answer. “She’s right for it now. Luff a bit, steady, it’s right ahead.”
“What is it? Can you see them?” cried the captain, eagerly peering into the distance himself.