"Lordy, you've got them too," said Milton. "Let's go ashore, and have a walk on the Apollo Bunda."
"Stow it," cried Green, and holding on to the mizzen-topgallant backstay, he jumped upon the rail.
"Look, look!" he cried, and Milton, looking, saw a faint glow to the southward—or fancied he saw it.
"Call the old man," said Green, and in two and three-fifths seconds by any man's chronometer, Banks was on deck, and saw nothing.
"But did ye see it, man?" he yelled; "and if so, what's it mean?"
"Some one struck a match in Colombo," said the second mate irreverently. For he had sailed with Banks for years, and at times took liberties.
"I only trust to Providence that it isn't that wicked man's ship in any trouble," said the skipper viciously. "Mr. Green, we'll stand to the south'ard for a while."
"Lay aft the watch," sang out Milton, and they braced her up to within two points of the wind.
Both watches stayed on deck in the little excitement, and in the course of the next hour they reported all kinds of non-existent things. "Rocks on the starboard bow" were varied by "A vessel on the port bow," and a planet low down in a break of cloud was "A steamer's head-light, sir."
"Collision with Venus," cried Milton.