"Yes, sir."

"All right--that'll do. Enter Rowland in the crow's-nest,
quartermaster," said the officer; then, making a funnel of his hands, he
roared out: "Crow's-nest, there."

"Sir," came the answer, shrill and clear on the gale.

"Keep your eyes open--keep a sharp lookout."

"Very good, sir."

"Been a man-o'-war's-man, I judge, by his answer. They're no good,"
muttered the officer. He resumed his position at the forward side of the
bridge where the wooden railing afforded some shelter from the raw wind,
and began the long vigil which would only end when the second officer
relieved him, four hours later. Conversation--except in the line of
duty--was forbidden among the bridge officers of the _Titan_, and his
watchmate, the third officer, stood on the other side of the large
bridge binnacle, only leaving this position occasionally to glance in at
the compass--which seemed to be his sole duty at sea. Sheltered by one
of the deck-houses below, the boatswain and the watch paced back and
forth, enjoying the only two hours respite which steamship rules
afforded, for the day's work had ended with the going down of the other
watch, and at two o'clock the washing of the 'tween-deck would begin, as
an opening task in the next day's labor.

By the time one bell had sounded, with its repetition from the
crow's-nest, followed by a long-drawn cry--"all's well"--from the
lookouts, the last of the two thousand passengers had retired, leaving
the spacious cabins and steerage in possession of the watchmen; while,
sound asleep in his cabin abaft the chart-room was the captain, the
commander who never commanded--unless the ship was in danger; for the
pilot had charge, making and leaving port, and the officers, at sea.

Two bells were struck and answered; then three, and the boatswain and
his men were lighting up for a final smoke, when there rang out overhead
a startling cry from the crow's-nest:

"Something ahead, sir--can't make it out."

The first officer sprang to the engine-room telegraph and grasped the
lever. "Sing out what you see," he roared.

"Hard aport, sir--ship on the starboard tack--dead ahead," came the cry.

"Port your wheel--hard over," repeated the first officer to the
quartermaster at the helm--who answered and obeyed. Nothing as yet could
be seen from the bridge. The powerful steering-engine in the stern
ground the rudder over; but before three degrees on the compass card
were traversed by the lubber