He watched the motions of the Blanche,
for there was nothing else to be seen but the waste of angry waters.
Far ahead the light of the breaking day began to penetrate the gloomy black
clouds. It was a pleasure to come out of the deep darkness, and he observed
with interest the increase of the light. While he was watching the east,
the lookout man in the foretop hailed the deck. He listened and moved
forward to the foremast to hear what passed between him and the first
officer.
"Steamer on the port bow, sir!" reported the man aloft.
Scott saw the vessel, but she was too far off to be made out. She passed
and disappeared; but about the moment he lost sight of her, he thought he
heard the report of a musket, or some other firearm, to the northward of
the ship. He listened with all his ears, and then distinguished very
faintly shouts from human voices. He waited only long enough to satisfy
himself that he had not mistaken the roar of the sea for calls for help,
and then went forward to the pilot-house, where he announced that he had
heard the shots and the cries.
"Are you sure of it, Mr. Scott?" asked the first officer.
"Very sure, sir."
"We have heard nothing, and the lookouts have not reported anything," added
Mr. Boulong.
"On deck, sir! Wreck on the port beam!" yelled the lookout aloft.
"Call the captain, Mr.
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