'Now sing out altogether, when I count three,' cried Abraham again. 'Ship ahoy!—to make one word of it. Now then!—wan, tew, three!' We united our voices in a hurricane yell of 'Ship ahoy!'
'Again!'
Once more we delivered the shout with such a note in it as could only come from lungs made tempestuous by fear and desire of preservation. Six or seven times did we thus hail that approaching lump of shadow, defined by its triangle of sparks, and in the intervals of our cries Jacob vehemently flourished the bull's-eye lamp.
Suddenly the green light disappeared.
'Ha! She sees us!' exclaimed Abraham.
The sound of pulsing ceased, and then, with a swiftness due to the atmospheric illusion of the gloom, but that, nevertheless, seemed incredible in a vessel whose engines had stopped, the great mass of shadow came shaping and forming itself out within her own length of us into the aspect of a large brig-rigged steamer, dark as the tomb along the length of her hull, but with a stream of lamplight touching her bridge, from which came a clear strong hail:
'Boat ahoy! What is wrong with you?'
'We're adrift, and want ye to pick us up!' roared Abraham. 'Stand by to give us the end of a line!'
Within five minutes the boat, with sail down and mast unstepped, was alongside the motionless steamer, and ten minutes later she was veering astern and the four of us, with such few articles as we had to hand up, safe aboard, the engines champing, the bow-wave seething, and the commander of the vessel asking us for our story.