d
heave her to, determining to await the return of daylight before
attempting any further progress.

At length a faint paling of the intense darkness astern proclaimed that
the long night--wet, hot, steamy, and altogether unpleasant--was drawing
to an end, and simultaneously the rain ceased, enabling us to discard
the oilskins and sou'-westers in which we had been stewing all night. I
took mine down on to the main deck, and hung them up to drain and dry on
a hook commonly used to hook back the starboard door giving access to
the poop cabins. Then, feeling exceedingly weary with my all-night
vigil--for I had never been off the deck since sunset--I went to my own
cabin for a few minutes and, filling the wash basin with cold fresh
water, indulged in the luxury of a good wash, which had the effect of
considerably refreshing me. This done, I returned to the poop, meeting
Polson--whose watch it was--at the head of the poop ladder.

"Oh, here you are, sir!" he exclaimed in accents of evident relief. "I
was just upon the p'int of goin' down to ask ye to come on deck again."

"Indeed," said I. "Have there been any fresh developments, then, during
the two or three minutes that I have been below?"

"Well, I dunno know much about `developments', Mr Troubridge," replied
the boatswain; "but turn your ear to wind'ard, sir, and tell me if you
hears anything at all out of the common."

"Why?" I demanded. "Do you hear anything in particular?" And, as
requested, I turned my head in a listening attitude.

Even during my brief absence from the deck the sky away to the eastward
had paled perceptibly, and there was already light enough abroad to
enable one not only to distinguish all the principal details of the
ship's hull and rigging, but also to render visible the heaving surface
of the sea for the distance of perhaps a couple of cable's lengths,
which was as far as the eye could penetrate the still somewhat misty
atmosphere. As I glanced outboard my attention was instantly arrested
by the short, choppy tumble of the water, and its colour, which was a
pale, chalky blue.

"Why, Polson," I exclaimed, "what has happened to the sea during the
night? Look at the colour of it! And--hark!--surely that cannot be the
sound of broken water?"

"So you've catched it, Mr Troubridge, have ye, sir?" the man replied.
"Well, you hadn't scarcely got down off the poop just now afore I
thought I heard some'at o' the sort, but I couldn't be