I knew what he meant. She was steering hard, and might broach to in any careless moment.
"Call the old man if there's any change," he added, and stumbled down the poop steps to the main deck, where the watch were huddled under the lee of the deck house. Then he disappeared aft, and the night swallowed him up.
I made my way to the wheel. Bill, a strong West Indian negro, was holding her steady enough, meeting her as she came to and swung off. He was assisted by Jones, a sturdy little fellow with a big shock head. I could just make out their faces in the light from the binnacle, which burned, for a wonder, in spite of the gale. It generally blew out in spite of all we could do to keep the lamps lit. Beyond was a hopeless blackness.
I went to the weather rail and tried to see to windward. A fleeting glimpse of a white comber caught my gaze close aboard; but beyond a few fathoms I could see nothing at all. Aft under the stern the torrent of dead water boiled and roared, showing a sickly flare from the phosphorus. We were going some, probably twelve or fifteen knots an hour; and right ahead was nothing—that is, nothing we could see; just a black wall of darkness.
Vainly I tried to make out the light of the coming morning; but the snow squalls shut off everything. Pete, sharp-eyed fellow of my watch, was on lookout on the forecastle head. I knew Pete's eyes were the best ever, but he could see nothing in that wild gale of snow and sleet and inky darkness. I went to the break of the poop again, and hailed the deck below.
"Keep a sharp lookout ahead, there," I said, bawling the words out to reach through the storm. Then I stood waiting, for there was nothing else to do.
Two bells came—five o'clock—and the watch reported all well and the lights burning brightly. Our starboard and port—green and red—lights were none too bright at any time, yet they were well within the law, and had served the ship for five years or more.
I answered the hail, and stood trying again to see something over the black hills of water that were rushing to the southwest under the pressure of the gale. Something made me very nervous. I began to shiver, and the snow struck my face and melted enough to run down my neck, making me miserable, indeed. I still stood gazing right ahead into the night, hoping for the dawn which was now due in another hour, when I heard a yell from the forecastle head.
"Light dead ahead, sir," came the hail.
I looked and saw nothing, but took Pete's word for it.