CHAPTER VII.
THE MYSTERY.
Leaving Chris still peacefully snoring, the three stole softly outside the cabin. Once outside they paused and listened again for a repetition of the strange signal.
They had not long to wait for in a few minutes, it came again, a long melodious mellow note, three times sounded.
"It comes from the Gulf," Captain Westfield declared. "Let's go down to the point. We can see both bay and gulf from there."
The island terminated in a long sand point that ran out into a passage that connected the bay with the Gulf of Mexico. To it, the three hastened their steps. Just as they stepped out on the sand spit, the mysterious signal sounded again.
"There it is," Charley cried, pointing out to sea. "It's a ship."
Out in the Gulf, about three hundred yards from where they stood, a dim shadowy mass loomed up vaguely in the darkness.
"It's a ship all right," Captain Westfield agreed, "but thar's something queer about her. No ship ever comes in close to these shores. With all the reefs thar are around hyar it's too dangerous unless one knows the channels mighty well. Then, that ain't no distress signal she's sounding,—four long blasts is the distress signal the world over. Then too she ain't got lights—that ain't proper and shipshape."