lack by daylight,
showed like mountains of red beef through the crimson fog.

"It was my watch," said Donovan. "I was all alone here. Thought I
would just speak to you. Come on quite sudden. I didn't know just what
to make of it."

"No wonder you didn't."

"I knew it couldn't be morning," he went on. "There must be a great
fire somewhere round: don't you think so, sir?"

I was trying to think. Queer sensations came over me. I looked at my
watch. It was four minutes past one. Donovan was right: it couldn't be
morning. A sudden thought struck me.

"It's the northern lights, Donovan!" I exclaimed.

"So red as this?"

"Yes: it's the fog."

"Do you really think so?" with a relieved breath.

"There's no doubt of it."

"But it makes a funny noise."

"Noise?"

"Yes: I heard it several times before I called you. Hark! There!"

A soft, rushing sound, which was neither the wind (for there was
none), nor the waves, nor the touch of ice, could be heard at brief
intervals. It seemed far aloft. I am at a loss how to describe it
best. It was not unlike the faint rustle of silk, and still more like
the flapping of a large flag in a moderate gale of wind. Occasionally
there would be a soft snap, which was much like the snapping of a
flag. I take the more pains to state this fact explicitly, because I
am aware that the statement that the auroral phenomena are accompanied
by audible sounds has been disputed by many writers. I have only to
add, that, if they could not have heard the "rustlings" from the deck
of "The Curlew" that night, they must have been lamentably deaf.

The light wavered visibly, brightening and waning with marvellous
swiftness.

"Shall we call the other young gentlemen?" Donovan asked.

"Yes; but don't tell them what it is. See what they will think of it."

In a few moments Kit and Wade and Raed were coming out of the
companion-way, rubbing their eyes in great bewilderment. They were
followed by the captain.

"Heavens!" he exclaimed. "Is the ship on fire?"

"Fire!" cried Wade excitedly, catching at the last word: "did you say
_fire_?"

"No, no!" exclaimed Kit. "It's _nothing_--nothing--but daybreak!"

"It's only one o'clock," said Donovan, willing to keep them in doubt.

Capt. Mazard was rushing about, looking over the bulwarks.

"There's no fire," said he, "unless it's up in the sky. But, by Jove!
if you aren't a red-looking set!--redder than lobsters!"

"Not redder than yerself, cap'n,"