Wainwright withdrew from the cabin of the professor, and went on deck again. It was still too thick to make out the vessel in distress; and, when he had directed the first lieutenant to call him if occasion should require, he went to his state-room to obtain the rest he needed.
The guns were repeated every half-hour as before; and it was evident that the two vessels were coming nearer together. The rain had ceased, but a thick fog had settled down upon the ocean, and concealed the two craft from each other. But the captain could not sleep, weary as he was, in his anxiety about the wreck to windward of the Tritonia. He went on deck. The gun sounded as though the vessel in distress was not more than a mile distant.
There was no gun on board of the schooner, or he would have used it to inform the sufferers that assistance was at hand.
The Tritonia had tacked several times in the heavy sea; and, after the captain came on deck the second time, he had ordered the addition of a close-reefed mainsail to the vessel, for the wind seemed to have abated a trifle.
“I see her!” shouted the lookout forward.
“Where away?” demanded the fourth master, springing upon the rail of the vessel, ready to get into the fore-rigging.
“Sharp on the weather-bow.”
“I see her,” added Richards, as he made out the dim outline of the craft in the fog, which had lifted a little as if to reveal the presence of the sufferer.
“She is a steamer!” shouted Richards, as he jumped down upon the deck, and hurried aft as rapidly as the uneasy motion of the Tritonia would permit.
He reported to the first lieutenant the position of the steamer; and immediately all the officers leaped upon the rail, and looked intently to windward to obtain a view of her.