“Yes, sir,” I answered with zest, all animation and excitement again at his encouragement. “She had her flag, the French tricolour, I think, sir, hoisted half-mast at her peak; and she appeared, sir, a good deal battered about, as if she had been in bad weather and had made the worst of it. Besides, cappen—”
I hesitated.
“Besides what, my boy?” he asked, on my pausing here, almost afraid to mention the sight I had noticed on the deck of the ill-fated ship in the presence of two such sceptical listeners as Mr Fosset and my more immediate superior, the third officer, Spokeshave. “You need not be afraid of saying anything you like before me. I’m captain of this ship.”
“Well, sir,” said I, speaking out, “just before that mass of clouds or fog bank came down on the wind, shutting out the ship from view, she yawed a bit off her course, and I saw somebody on her deck aft.”
“What!” cried the skipper, interrupting me. “Was she so close as that?”
“Yes, sir,” said I. “She did not seem to be a hundred yards away at the moment, if that.”
“And you saw somebody on the deck?”
“Yes, cap’en,” I answered; “a woman.”
He again interrupted me, all agog at the news.
“A woman?”