at do you make her out?"

"Don't make her out, sir," answered the red-haired Sam Hickey, who was
doing lookout duty on the platform beside the number one searchlight.

"Do you still see her!"

"No, sir."

The watch officer gazed through his night glass in the direction
indicated, but was unable to pick up a light of any sort. The "Long
Island" was plunging through a great gale, which she was taking head
on. White-tipped seas, backed by solid walls of water were sweeping
the bridge more than forty feet above the level of the sea. Even the
red-haired boy clinging to the rail far above the bridge was now and
again nearly swept from his feet by the rush of water that enveloped
him.

A sixty-mile gale was sweeping the Atlantic seaboard, with the wind
shrieking weirdly through the huge cage masts, whose tops were lost in
the darkness above the ship itself. Every man on deck was clinging to
stanchion and rail in momentary danger of being swept overboard.

"You must have been mistaken," shouted the watch officer.

"No, sir. It was a light all right, sir," shouted Sam Hickey in a
confident tone.

"What did it look like?"

"It looked like a shooting star, sir."

"What was it?"

"It was a shooting star, sir."

A half articulated exclamation of disgust from the officer on the
bridge reached the ears of the lookout.

"It shot right up from the sea, sir."

"What's that?"

The question was hurled up at Sam with almost explosive force.

"The star shot right up from the sea, sir."

Now, the watch officer on the bridge of the battleship knew full well
that shooting stars shoot downward, not upward. He knew also that with
a sky overcast as was this one, with the clouds hanging low, no
shooting star could be made out, even granting that one had fallen.

"Boatswain's mate!" roared the officer.

"Aye, aye, sir," answered a hoarse voice somewhere from the depths
below.

"Turn out the top watches. Man the tops on the jump!"

"Aye, aye, sir."

Loud words of command floated up from below and a moment later a group
of sailors dashed up to the bridge, rubbing their eyes sleepily.
Without awaiting a word of instruction, they began running up the iron
ladders of the cage masts and were quickly lost to view.

The watch officer raised his megaphone, pointing it up into the air.

"Look sharp two points to starboard. See if you can pick up a light.
Keep your eyes open. Boatswain's mate!"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"S