“Altogether, now!” shouted Holdsworth; “one, two, three—ship ahoy!”
The united voices sounded like a shriek of death-agony rising out of the ebony-coloured deep; but no response was brought back by the wind.
“O God!” raved Winyard. “They’d see us if we could only show a light!”
“She is running before the wind,” cried Johnson; “she’s passing us!”
“Put your helm up!” roared Holdsworth. “We’ll follow her. She may hear us when we get her to leeward.”
They let go the halliards, shook the reefs out of the sail, and set it again, slackening the sheet far out. The boat headed for the visionary shadow, which was fast fading in the universal gloom, and the foam boiled under and alongside of her.
“Altogether again!” sang out Holdsworth.
Once more went forth the loud, despairing chorus, to be followed by silence. They might as well have attempted to chase a cloud. Keen as the sailors’ eyes were, they could no longer perceive the shadow.
“Never mind!” exclaimed Holdsworth, cheerily, “there may be others near us; we’ll keep a sharp look-out.”