Aft, a grizzly-faced man is at the wheel, and he is keeping her head to the sea that is running pretty high.
I try to find out the name of the vessel, but it is not to be seen anywhere, even on the life-buoys.
I walk up to one of the sailors and inquire:
“What is the name of this ship?”
No answer, and I fancy the man does not understand me.
“Where is the captain?” I continue.
But the sailor pays no more heed to this than he did to the previous question.
I turn on my heel and go forward.
Above the forward hatchway a bell is suspended. Maybe the name of the schooner is engraved upon it. I examine it, but can find no name upon it.
I then return to the stern and address the man at the wheel. He gazes at me sourly, shrugs his shoulders, and bending, grasps the spokes of the wheel solidly, and brings the schooner, which had been headed off by a large wave from port, stem on to sea again.