“Sail O! Ship dead ahead! Look out, she’s——”
The startling cry, wafted aft from the forecastle by a sudden shifting of the gale, came to an end just as the officer on watch awakened to the fact that something was wrong.
Grasping his trumpet more firmly, he peered through the gloom enshrouding the ship like a damp mist, and then bawled, lustily:
“Foc’s’le, ahoy! What have you sighted?”
There was a commotion about the wet, littered decks. Crew and cadets slipped from their shelters and glanced anxiously out into the storm-tossed waste of waters. The executive officer, who had just retired, hastily reappeared, armed with his nightglass, and silently took his station on the quarter-deck.
All waited breathlessly for the answer from forward. It was tardy in coming, and the executive officer snapped out:
“Forward, there! Why don’t you answer?”
A tall, slim figure, swathed in oilskins, swayed up to the speaker from beyond the foremast, and saluted as well as plunging deck would permit.
“I have investigated the matter, sir. The cry was given by a new fourth class cadet, acting as lookout on the starboard cathead. He fancied he saw a ship directly in front, and he gave the alarm.”
“What is his name?”