“There are so many strange sounds in a storm like this, that you can’t be sure of any thing,” replied Raymond. “I hope you didn’t hear a gun, for it can only be a signal of distress in such a storm.”
But Richards was piqued at the idea of having made a false report, and he kept his ears wide open for the next hour. Once he thought he heard the sound again, but he did not mention it, though the lookout glanced at him to indicate that he had heard something.
It was too thick and dark to see any thing, even if there had been a sinking ship within a cable’s length of the Tritonia. Nearly half an hour later he heard the sound again. It was a sort of dull and indistinct “thud,” which might have been made by a wave under the counter of the schooner; but it came from a distance, and from the same direction as before.
“Gun on the weather-bow, sir,” repeated the lookout; and this time he spoke so confidently that the fourth master deemed it his duty to report again to the officer of the deck.
“I imagined I heard it myself this time,” replied Greenwood, looking very anxious. “But it might have been a gun, and it might not.”
“I think it was a gun; and I have heard it several times,” answered Richards.
“I don’t like to call the captain, after he has been on deck all night, for nothing,” continued the first lieutenant, looking very much troubled, as he wiped the spray from his face.
“If it is a gun, it can only mean that some vessel is in distress,” added Richards. “I think we had better err on the side of humanity.”
“No doubt of it; but we are not running away from the direction you report the sound as coming from.”
“If the vessel is disabled, she is drifting this way; and we can hardly work to windward in this weather.”