“Yes. I am positive I saw it just as I described it to Lieutenant Watson. I was standing near the heel of the bowsprit looking ahead, when, suddenly there came a flash of lightning, and before the glare died away, I saw a peculiar-looking hull, battered and worn, with two masts clear of yards and sails. At each top was a queer, round object shaped like a barred cage. As far as I could see there was no one on board, and the vessel seemed—— Heavens! what was that?”
Clif’s description ended in an exclamation of profound amazement. There was good cause for it. Suddenly, and without warning, a horrible scream, blood-curdling in its intensity, sounded through the length and breadth of the practice ship.
It was not uttered by any on board, but seemed to come from off the port beam. There was an instant of breathless silence, then, just as the crew, aroused and horrified, rushed from below, a second terrible cry arose above the whistling of the gale.
The men at the wheel were so startled that, stanch seamen though they were, they involuntarily released the spokes. There was not much canvas exposed to the wind, merely the topsails and storm staysails, close-reefed, but there was enough spread to send the ship almost aback.
The captain, hurrying from his cabin, grasped the situation at once. A sharp word of command brought the sailors to a sense of their duty, and they hurled themselves upon the wheel just in time to keep the Monongahela from broaching to.
As she staggered around, trembling under the force of the gale, there suddenly came a startling cry from amidships.
“Ship abeam! Look! She is almost on us!”
The voice was Clif’s, and the lad, dimly revealed in the faint light of dawn, was standing upon the lower port main shrouds, pointing with shaking hand to where, lurching wildly toward the practice ship, was a grim, weather-beaten hull, with two bare masts, having cage-like objects in the tops.