While the boys scattered eagerly enough Captain Jeb, making a spyglass of his hands, was scanning the horizon with a sailor’s practised eye.
“What is it you see?” asked Brother Bart, anxiously. “Don’t tell me it’s another storm!”
“No,” answered Captain Jeb, slowly, “it ain’t another storm. Neb” (his tone grew suddenly sharper and quicker), “step up to the ship and get the old man’s glass,—the glass we keep shut up in the case.”
Neb, who never shirked an order, obeyed. In a moment he returned with one of the greatest treasures of the “Lady Jane”—Great-uncle Joe’s ship-glass that was always kept safe from profaning touch; its clear lenses, that had looked out on sea and sky through many a long voyage, polished to a shine. Captain Jeb adjusted them to his own failing eyes, and gazed seaward for a few moments in silence. Then he said:
“’Pears as if I couldn’t see clarly after that tarnation blow. You look out, Neb. And, Padre, you’d better step back thar and keep a weather eye on them younkers. It doesn’t do to turn them out too free, with things all broke up.”
“You’re right, man,—you’re right, Jeroboam,” said the good Brother tremulously. “I’ll keep an eye on them, as you say.”
“Thar,—I’ve got him out of the way!” said Captain Neb, as Brother Bart hurried back to watch over his scattered flock. “Now look, Neb,—look steady and straight! Three points to the south of Numskull Nob,—what d’ye see?”
“Nothing at all,” answered Neb.
“Look again!” His brother adjusted the old shipmaster’s glass with a hand that trembled strangely. “Another point to the south. Look steady as ye can, Neb. Yer weather eye was always clarer than mine. What d’ye see now?”
“Nothing,” came the answer again; and then the dull tone quickened: “Aye I do,—I do! Thar’s suthing sticking out of the waves like a broken mast.”