"Why, there she is!"
"I can't see her," said the other; "and what's more, I won't take charge of the deck till I do."
"I'm sure I saw her two minutes ago," said Bowline.
Weel, sir, they lookit and lookit, and we a' lookit, and they gat up their nicht-glasses; but a' in vain, for the boat wasna to be seen.
The offisher o' the deck was maist demented, and ran in to the captain—"We've lost sight of the boat, sir!"
"The devil!" said he, starting oot o' his cot, and rinning on deck—"burn a blue light directly!"
The gunner's mate ran doun for a blue licht; and, in a minute, it was fizzing awa on the quarter, throwing a bricht glare o' licht a' owre the ship. The nicht was dark by this time; but you could see every rape in her, and the faces o' the men at the far end looking a' blue and ghaist-like.
Lang and sair we lookit for an answer to the signal; ye micht hae heard a whisper, we war sae quiet wi' fear and hope; but there was nowther sicht nor sound in reply. Anither was burned—but still nae answer.
A gloom fell upon us a', a fear o' we didna ken what. We durstna speak our thochts to ane anither; and, as for our captain, I thocht he wad hae gane clean oot o' his mind—for a kinder-hearted man never steppit a quarterdeck. We hove the ship to, as they ca't, and fired guns every two or three minutes, in hopes the lads in the boat wad hear; and sair and sadly we langed for the morning licht.
It cam at last; but there was naething to be seen but the lift and the water. The ship was hauled to the wind; and the hail o' that day we made short tacks backward and forward across our auld course, wi' signals fleeing at our mastheads, and firing guns every hauf-hour, and a' the men straining their een to get a gliff o' the boat—but a' for nocht—we never saw them mair! Whether the boat was capsised in a sudden squall, or the ship had struck her, or whatever it was, will never be kent till the sea gies up her dead!