One damp, overcast morning, a large ship appeared on the northern horizon, standing almost directly after us. She drifted along all day without coming near enough for Captain Crojack to make out who she was, and toward evening she disappeared in a thick smudge of rain.
After supper it cleared off, and the moon shone brightly over a sea of oily smoothness.
The ship astern had drifted quite close during the rain squall, and now she suddenly appeared on the port quarter not half a mile distant.
It was a pretty sight to see her there, with her canvas all glimmering in the moonlight, and all hands took a good look at her. She appeared innocent enough.
By and by the skipper made her out to be an Englishman, and he sat aft looking at her for a long time.
Mrs. Waters and her daughter came on deck and placed chairs, so they could sit and watch the stranger, for she was the only vessel that had come within hailing distance of us since we left port.
It is a strange feeling of fellowship that comes over people who are abroad on the wide ocean when they find themselves in the vicinity of an unknown vessel. There is as much interest taken in a strange ship at sea as there would be in one carrying dear friends on soundings.
While Captain Crojack and his passengers were gazing at the vessel astern the third mate came aft and seated himself close to Miss Waters.
The young girl and he conversed in low tones, so I could not hear what was said; but as she appeared to lose all interest in the ship, it is barely possible that they were not discussing nautical matters.
I can’t explain why this irritated me. It may have been the effect of the moonlight, for the tropic moon has a powerful effect upon people if they sleep with it shining in their faces.