Besides, I felt now as though I were old enough and big enough to make my own way in the world, and to keep my mother in comfort, if not in luxury, as well.
Dawn drew near and the stars began to fade. Soon the deck would be a-bustle with our watch washing down. We had probably crossed and recrossed the way of the Gullwing during the night, but she had not been hailed from the lookout.
As the light of day advanced the wind fell. We hardly made steerage-way in the pearl-colored light of dawn. The coming day is heralded ashore by hundreds of feathered trumpeters; but here on the open sea it advances with silence.
Far, far out on the sea, where the gently swelling water seemed buttoned to the rim of the sky, a sudden flush appeared. The hue lay upon both sky and sea—indeed, it was hard to distinguish for a bit the one element from the other. But I knew the sun was about to poke his head up just there!
And as the glow grew, a ghostly figure drew across the pink patch. I watched it eagerly. The sun, mist-shrouded and sleepy, was thrust out of the sea; and across the red face of him sailed a four-stick ship—the Gullwing! It did not need the man in the crow’s nest to hail the officer of the deck and announce the fact. I could identify our sister ship from where I stood.
Long red rays like pointing fingers played across the sea. The Gullwing and the Seamew were several miles apart. The early rays of the sun touched an object on the sea—at first merely a black spot—lying about equi-distant of the two ships.
When I first saw this black thing I sprang into the shrouds. Mr. Hollister hailed me:
“What do you see, Webb?”
“Something adrift—yonder, sir!”
“Lookout, ahoy!” bawled the mate.