The sound continued.

It was the low sobbing of the captain, a hoarse and horrible murmur.
McTee closed the door and went back onto the deck, for he suddenly understood the futility of questions.

Harrigan, in the meantime, had waited for the return of McTee, and when the latter did not come, the Irishman lingered on the bridge for an hour or more, pottering about with his brush in a pretense of finishing up a perfect job.

His attention was drawn then by a gathering crowd and bustle in the waist of the ship between the wheelhouse and the forecastle.

The entire crew of the _Heron_ seemed to be mustering, with the exception of those needed to keep the engines running.