“Barque ahoy!” is heard in fainter tone; but not in answer. Only the echo of the officer’s voice, coming back from the hollow timbers of the becalmed vessel! There is again silence, more profound then ever. For the sailors in the boat have ceased talking; their awe, now intense, holding them speechless and as if spellbound!
“Barque ahoy!” again shouted the lieutenant, louder than before, but with like result. As before, he is only answered by echo. There is either nobody on board, or no one who thinks it worth while to make rejoinder.
The first supposition seems absurd, looking at the sails; the second equally so, regarding the flag at the main-royal masthead, and taking into account its character.
A third hail from the officer, this time vociferated in loudest voice, with the interrogatory added:
“Any one aboard there?”
To the question no reply, any more than to the hail.
Silence continues—stillness profound, awe-inspiring. They in the boat begin to doubt the evidence of their senses. Is there a barque before their eyes? Or is it all an illusion? How can a vessel be under sail—full sail—without sailors? And if any, why do they not show at her side? Why have they not answered the hail thrice given; the last time loud enough to be heard within the depths of her hold? It should have awakened her crew, even though all were asleep in the forecastle!
“Give way again!” cries the lieutenant. “Bring up on the starboard side, coxswain! Under the forechains.”
The oars are dipped, and the cutter moves on. But scarce is she in motion, when once more the officer commands “Hold!”
With his voice mingle others, coming from the barque. Her people seem at length to have become aroused from their sleep, or stupor. A noise is heard upon her deck, as of a scuffle, accompanied by cries of strange intonation.