“Gentlemen—” Widmer’s sneering voice began again, but the sentence was not finished.
An outthrust hand flung back the shutter. There was a quick movement in the sudden darkness, a hoarse gasp, a strange sound that frightened the little cabin boy, who had thrown himself, belly down, by the open hatch overhead, then from above came the lookout’s voice, sharp with warning.
“Sail ho!”
“Where away?”
“Dead ahead! Something afloat under the bows!”
“Where—”
“Wear ship—put down your helm!”
A third voice broke into the dialogue: “What’s all this? There’s nothing there.”
“I tell you, sir, I see it— There it lifts, by heaven!”
All at once came a crash and shock that sent the mizzen-topmast by the board, and hurled men from their feet. For a moment there was silence, then that shrill yell sounded, that wrings hearts: