The schooner was put under try sails, "a three-reefed mitten with the thumb brailed up," as he heard the boatkeeper call it.
This latter was at the wheel for a moment, but in a little while he called up a young man dressed in a suit of oilskins and a pea jacket and gave him the charge.

For a long time Vandover watched the boy turning the spokes back and forth, his eyes alternating between the binocle and the horizon.
In the evening about half-past ten, the lookout in the crow's nest sang out: "Smoke--oh!" sounding upon his fish horn.

The boatkeeper ran aft and lit a huge calcium flare, holding it so as to illuminate the big number on the mainsail.

Suddenly, about a quarter of a mile off their weather-bow, a couple of rockets left a long trail of yellow against the night.

It was the Cape Horner, and presently Vandover made out her lights, two glowing spots moving upon the darkness, like the eyes of some nocturnal sea-monster.