"I heard nothing," replied Dacres.
"Could have sworn I heard a man's voice. Perhaps my senses are playing me a trick."
"It may be the breeze, sir," suggested the sub, as a catspaw ruffled the surface of the placid water.
"Of course. All the same, I'll have the searchlight trained on the place."
For quite ten minutes the beams swung slowly to and fro, but nothing could be seen beyond the ripples on the sea.
"There's a vessel approaching, sir," announced Dacres, who had been sweeping the horizon with his glasses. "I can just pick up her red and green lights. She's quite five miles off, I should think."
"She must have spotted our searchlight, and is altering her course to investigate. Pass the word for the searchlight to be switched off, Dacres. I don't think we need assistance, unless I'm very much mistaken about Parson's capabilities."
"There's quite a decent breeze, sir," commented Dacres as he prepared to descend the companion ladder. "We must be making a fair drift."
"Not with that sea-anchor out," said Whittinghame.
"I don't know about that, sir; you see, we're floating light. I'll work out our position, for I shouldn't be surprised if we are drifting down upon the Galapagos."