Captain Henderson raised his binoculars and stared vainly into the pall of darkness broken every few minutes by vivid, jagged flashes of lightning. Huge waves obstructed his vision at regular intervals. "Can't see a thing," he shouted. Then he swept the raging sea and sky once more. Abruptly, lights on the water came into view.
"There they are," shouted the first mate.
"Java lights," said the captain.
The first mate shouted again. "No, no, not Java, sir; they wouldn't bob about like that."
The lights were coming closer now. The first mate raised his binoculars and fixed them on the approaching lights. "That's a ship, sure," he said.
"Any distress signal?" asked the captain.
"No."
"Odd. Ship's in distress—plain as a pikestaff."
Munro had been peering through his glasses in silence; he lowered them suddenly and turned to the captain. "Some lettering just now, sir. I saw it quite clearly. An 'm' and the end of a word, which I took to be land."
"English ship, then," shouted the captain. "'M'—yes."