She lay softly lifting upon the light swell, a beautiful, helpless fabric. The shudders which ran through her canvas were like the distress of something living. She had slewed somewhat, bringing her jibbooms to bear upon the ship. In the blind, hopeless way of abandoned craft, she was posture-making for help.
The excitement aboard the Alfred was very great indeed. The mastheading of the men, the pictures of their little bodies high in the heavens, sweeping the deep with binocular and telescope, had immensely stimulated the passions of curiosity and wonder.
What did the captain expect the sailors to see upon that vast girdle of brine, that rolled flawless to the glorious stroke of the sun? It was known that the young lady who had been on board the schooner was betrothed to Captain Parry. Could romance be carried beyond this? The ladies fluttered in talk, the gentlemen growled.
'I'm keeping a diary,' said a major, with great, dyed, well-curled whiskers, to the surgeon of the ship, 'of this voyage home, as I did of the voyage out, and I shall probably publish it, sir. But this incident will not be credited. Sages in their day have believed in ghosts, and laughed to scorn a report of earthquakes.'
'I do not see why this incident should not be believed,' said the doctor.
'It is too probable—for the sea, sir. If you want a sea-fact to be accepted, state that which a sailor will know to be impossible.'
'Parry looks as haggard as if he had been up for a week of nights,' said the doctor.
Many eyes were fixed upon him as he stood beside the master of the ship, viewing the schooner and talking. The ship forward was a gem of an ocean piece, with the smoke of her galley-chimney going straight up, the sailors—it was their breakfast-time—lounging in the cool of the shade of the jibs, with hook-pots and biscuits, and pipes of tobacco: and the great foresail, white as milk, floated motionless from its long yard.
Some soldiers in white clothes were seated upon the booms, in the wake of the draught which would stir from that vast square of sail when the weak swell of the sea put a faint pulse of life into it. The sky was sublimely lofty, with the light-blue brilliance of the tropic zone; not a cloud to depress it to the sight, and all the air was gone.
Captain Barrington and Captain Parry stood together at the mizzen shrouds, looking at the schooner, conversing, and waiting for the return of the mate. The passengers very respectfully gave them a wide berth.