“How beautiful the moonlight is,” she said, so low that no one heard; “and from what an awful peril have we this night been delivered.”
She slowly followed her niece to the cabin.
Captain Maxwell did not linger long on deck after his passengers had turned in. He, too, usually retired early, and arose at daylight. But the incident of the lighted lantern disturbed him. To the master who has once experienced fire at sea, the mere possibility of another visitation conveys a dread that the worst hurricane cannot inspire. He paced the deck for some time, and then, after a glance aloft, went below.
Midnight came; and the mate was relieved by Frank Freeman, who found his superior in no very pleasant frame of mind.
“You’ve still got a fair wind,” Freeman observed; “she’s slipping through it in good shape.”
“I suppose you expected to come on deck and find a dead calm, with me and my watch ahead in the long-boat, towing the bark.”
Bohlman left the quarter-deck with this good-natured rejoinder, while the second mate smothered a laugh as he lit his pipe.
Dick climbed down the fore rigging with alacrity, and entered the forecastle with the rest of the port watch. His plans were matured. There was a triumphant light in the boy’s eyes, and a furtive smile on his ill-favored features as he crept into his bunk and feigned sleep.
A lantern swung from the dingy ceiling, casting a flickering light upon the tiers of bunks, and upon various other objects in the forecastle. There were oilers and rubber boots thrown about here and there, old books without covers, and sea-chests of various patterns. The numerous initials, names, and dates, cut into the walls indicated that the _Western Belle_ had sailed the seas for many years. On one side some one with a talent for drawing had recently executed a chalk picture of the whale swallowing Jonah, which was a marvel of realism. Near this artistic production was tacked a printed card setting forth what rules the crew were expected to obey, what compensation they were to receive, and other matters of like import.
Sea air and insomnia are deadly enemies, and before one bell struck, a chorus of snores assured Dick that his companions were asleep. He suffered a few minutes over the half hour to elapse, and then slipped noiselessly from his bunk. Gliding to the open door, he looked stealthily out. That side of the deck was thrown into shadow by the forecastle, and no one was to be seen but two of the watch on duty slowly walking up and down the main deck, as they conversed in low tones. The others were doubtless on the opposite side of the forward-house.