We had run some distance scudding before the gale; and, as the navigating officer thought that we were now pretty well beyond the risk of experiencing any further ill effects from the stormy nor’-easter, the commodore made up his mind to utilise it and proceed on our voyage home.
So setting our topsails double-reefed again and bracing round the yards on a bowline, we shaped a course for the Azores or Western Islands; and getting into calmer latitudes ere morning, were able to make all plain sail again.
On the second day after this we had an awful thunderstorm, in which the lightning flashed from all points of the compass, and heaven’s artillery pealed as if the sky was bursting asunder.
This was followed by a deluge of rain, which washed our decks cleaner than they had been since we left our home port, though the first lieutenant was pretty sharp about seeing them scrubbed and washed down daily.
The same afternoon, when it had cleared up again, the sun coming out and the waves calming down, our lookout-man aloft in the foretop sighted something in the distance.
“Sail ho!” he cried, “on our lee bow.”
Every eye was cocked as we peered over the bulwarks, and every ear strained to catch what followed.
“Where away?” hailed the commodore, who was walking up and down aft, taking a constitutional after his lunch, I suppose. “What do you make it out to be?”
“A boat adrift, sir, I think,” replied the lookout-man, stopping to have another good look at the object. “It’s well away on our lee bow, sir, and we’re passing it abeam now.”
“Very good, my man,” said the commodore; and, turning to the officer of the watch, he added, “Square the yards, Mr Osborne, and we’ll run down and see what it is.”