The hand disappeared and returned with a biscuit-tin, and finally vanished altogether.
The dawn was now paling the eastern sky, and the wedge of fore-deck began to take shape and harden as the light gained strength. The faint glow in the compass died out, and the coast ahead became visible: a distant, mountainous country, looking menacing in the struggling dawn.
The navigator pulled out his watch.
‘Five o’clock,’ he muttered. ‘Better get a star sight before diving.’
Telling the helmsman to ring the bell if he saw anything, he went below into the control room, where the thump and bang of the engines smothered all other sounds, and through into the fore compartment, treading lightly and dodging under the hammocks and over the sleeping men stretched out on the deck.
Passing through the long green curtains, he stepped into that space dignified by the high-sounding name of ‘Ward Room,’ where Seagrave and Raymond were sleeping, and culling from a drawer his sextant and a watch, returned on deck.
By the time he had taken his sights the dawn was well advanced, and after a careful look round the horizon he once more rang the bell.
‘Call the captain and tell him it’s five-fifteen, please.’
‘Ay, ay, sir.’
Presently Raymond came up and took a long look at the distant coast.