“’Tis Bob Brace, sir; who says he cannot sleep, and so he stays upon the yard to keep me company.”

“Send the man down.  I would speak to him.”

While the wakeful seaman was descending the rigging, the two officers continued silent, each seeming to find sufficient occupation in musing on what had already passed.

“And why are you not in your hammock?” said Wilder, a little sternly, to the man who, in obedience to his order, had descended to the quarter-deck.

“I am not sleep-bound, your Honour, and therefore I had the mind to pass another hour aloft.”

“And why are you, who have two night-watches to keep already, so willing to enlist in a third?”

“To own the truth, sir, my mind has been a little misgiving about this passage, since the moment we lifted our anchor.”

Mrs Wyllys and Gertrude, who were auditors, insensibly drew nigher, to listen, with a species of interest which betrayed itself by the thrilling of nerves, and an accelerated movement of the pulse.

“And you have your doubts, sir!” exclaimed the Captain, in a tone of slight contempt.  “Pray, may I ask what you have seen, on board here, to make you distrust the ship.”

“No harm in asking, your Honour,” returned the seaman, crushing the hat he held between two hands that had a gripe like a couple of vices, “and so I hope there is none in answering.  I pulled an oar in the boat after the old man this morning, and I cannot say I like the manner in which he got from the chase.  Then, there is something in the ship to leeward that comes athwart my fancy like a drag, and I confess, your Honour, that I should make but little head-way in a nap, though I should try the swing of a hammock.”

“How long is it since you made the ship to leeward?” gravely demanded Wilder.

“I will not swear that a real living ship has been made out at all, sir.  Something I did see, just before the bell struck seven, and there it is, just as clear and just as dim, to be seen now by them that have good eyes.”

“And how did she bear when you first saw her?”

“Two or three points more toward the beam than it is now.”

“Then we are passing her!” exclaimed Wilder, with a pleasure too evident to be concealed.

“No, your Honour, no.  You forget, sir, the ship has come closer to the wind since the middle watch was set.”

“True,” returned his young Commander, in a tone of disappointment; “true, very true.  And her bearing has not changed since you first made her?”

“Not by compass, sir.  It is a quick boat that, or would never hold such way with the ‘Royal Caroline,’ and that too upon a stiffened bow-line, which every body knows is the real play of this ship.”

“Go, get you to your hammock.  In the morning we may have a better look at the fellow.”

“And—­you hear me, sir,” added the attentive mate, “do not keep the men’s eyes open below, with a tale as long as the short cable, but take your own natural rest, and leave all others, that have clear consciences, to do the same.”