The clock in the cabin struck, and the bell forward repeated the four sharp strokes. A man came aft to relieve the wheel. A moment later Captain March appeared on deck, and walked over to his daughter's side.
"Heh! young lady," he said, "I thought I told you to turn in."
"I'm going to stay with you a while," she answered, and took his arm.
"Cap'n," said Medbury, "hadn't you better keep your watch below? I'll change the men at the pumps and take a spell at the wheel myself. We don't need you now."
"No," replied the captain; "my place is on deck to-night."
They stood in silence a long time, listening to the sounds of the night, and having no inclination to speech. Suddenly, above the roar of the wind, they heard the voice of the lookout crying from the forecastle-deck:
"Light ahead on the port bow! Light ahead! White light!"
Captain March sprang to the wheel and jammed the helm hard up; Medbury ran forward. He had scarcely reached the forecastle-deck when the light came abreast, a cable's length away. All at once it began to swing in a short, quick arc, and the people on the brig heard the cry of voices. It swept past them like a banshee, with the light swinging frantically, and the sound of oars chopping the sea in short, irregular strokes. The next moment the brig came up into the wind with rattling blocks and slapping canvas, and Captain March was roaring orders in a mighty voice, while the watch below streamed out upon the deck like a hive of frightened bees.
