she had all the look of an Orient, or a P. and O. liner, and was too far away from us to permit a reading of her flag. The men evidently had not seen her, or took no notice of her if they had; but John upon the bridge followed the movements of Black with curiosity, and once or twice turned his own glass on the black hull just visible above the horizon. He had forgotten the episode of the previous night—when, undoubtedly, he was full of drink—and was almost as troubled as the skipper.
"What's he up to?" he asked me in a whisper, as Black kept turning his glass towards the hull of the other ship. "Did he get any liquor in him last night? I never saw him this way before."
And again, after a pause—
"Have you got any eyes for that ship? What's he fixing her like that for? She's no more than an Orient boat by her jib, and if she lays on her course we'll make it warm for her outside."
Black heard his last words, and turned round upon him savagely—
"Yes," he said, "it'll be warm enough out there for them as lives as well as for the dead. Ring down for more firing; what's the lubber at?—he's not giving her thirteen knots."
By-and-by all the crew began to observe Black's anxiety and to crowd to the starboard side; but he told them nothing, although he never left the
