XV
It must have been four bells when the second mate found his way to Medbury's side and told him that the captain wanted him.
"I'm to stay here," he added.
"Don't give them any let-up," Medbury shouted in his ear; "and lash yourself fast. But don't give them any let-up."
He struggled aft, and put his hand on the captain's shoulder. In the light of the binnacle-lamp he could see that the old man's face was set and grim.
"Want me, sir?" he called, and bent his head to hear.
"Yes," he heard. The captain whirled the wheel, and then continued: "Yes; go aloft; see if you can see the light on Culebra." He paused to shift the wheel, straightened up again, and went on: "These seas run—a little like shoaling water. I'd hate to run too far to the westward and fetch up on the shoals beyond Culebra. Bad enough as 'tis. Take a good look, and hurry back."
"All right, sir!" Medbury shouted, then made his way to the main-rigging, and went slowly and carefully up. The wind flattened him against the ratlines, so that it was with difficulty that he lifted arms and knees; and when the brig swung to port, he seemed to be clinging to the lower side of the rigging, so far did she roll down. "Fetlock-shrouds all the way up," he muttered to himself. When he was well above the obstructing lower topsail, he looked ahead.
Under him, near the vessel, the sea gleamed spectrally over its whole surface, but farther away it was black. The mist had lifted, and he had the impression, even in the darkness, of a wide horizon-line; but no light was to be seen. He went upward again, till the crosstrees were just above him, and looked once more.
He gazed long, sweeping the whole line of the sea ahead slowly, pausing at each point, that he might not lose the flash. The strain brought the tears to his eyes, and he wiped them with his sleeve and looked again. Something in his dizzy altitude, in the task set him and its failure, impressed him more than anything had yet done, and he began to lose heart.