"Good-night."
"Good-night, Miss Lee."
"I--I feel very safe with you on guard," she said, and held out
her hand. I took it in mine, with my heart leaping. It was as
cold as ice.
That night, at four bells, I mustered the crew as silently as
possible around the jollyboat, and we lowered it into the water.
The possibility of a dead calm had convinced me that the sooner it
was done the better. We arranged to tow the boat astern, and
Charlie Jones suggested a white light in its bow, so we could be
sure at night that it had not broken loose.
Accordingly, we attached to the bow of the jolly-boat a tailed
block with an endless fall riven through it, so as to be able to
haul in and refill the lantern. Five bells struck by the time we
had arranged the towing-line.
We dropped the jolly-boat astern and made fast the rope. It gave
me a curious feeling, that small boat rising and falling behind us,
with its dead crew, and its rocking light, and, on its side above
the water-line, the black cross--a curious feeling of pursuit, as
if, across the water, they in the boat were following us. And,
perhaps because the light varied, sometimes it seemed to drop behind,
as if wearying of the chase, and again, in great leaps, to be
overtaking us, to be almost upon us.
An open boat with a small white light and a black cross on the side.