“Look at that cloud now,” exclaimed Fred. “It’s spreading all over the sky and see how fast it is going. It’ll be dark in a few minutes.”
“Why don’t they take the rest of the sails in?” demanded John nervously. “I must say I don’t like this.”
“They’ve taken in the topsails and the mizzen,” said Grant. “That’s a big part.”
A lull had now come over the crew and the four young friends were unconsciously affected by it. Now there was not a breath of air stirring; the sails hung heavy and motionless from the yards. Blacker and blacker grew the sky; the stillness all about became appalling. No one spoke a word, but every one stood around as though waiting for something serious to happen. The crew was gathered about the forward hatchway silently watching the approach of the storm.
Mr. Johnson, the mate, went forward and gave some order in a low tone. More sails were taken in, all in a solemn and quiet manner. The brig now lay motionless on the water while an uneasy expectation of something threatening seemed to hang overhead. The suspense was terrible. Captain Dodge paced silently up and down the deck but he spoke to no one and no one spoke to him. It was now so dark it was almost impossible to see the length of the ship.
Again Mr. Johnson came forward and gave another low-voiced command. Two sailors, one of whom was Petersen, started up the mast to clew down the main top-gallant sail. They had just reached the fore-top-gallant yard when a strange thing happened.
“Look,” cried John, in an awe struck voice.
“What is that?” demanded Fred in a frightened whisper.
“A corposant,” said Grant. “I’ve read about them.”
Over and directly above the heads of the two sailors appeared a light. It was in the shape of a ball and hung to the very top of the mast.