"Hallo," he exclaimed; only he could not stop a moment to ask if she was hurt.

He bolted out of the companion straight into his captain who took the flare from him and held it high above his head.
The fierce flame fluttered like a silk flag, throwing an angry swaying glare mingled with moving shadows over the poop, lighting up the concave surfaces of the sails, gleaming on the wet paint of the white rails.

And young Powell turned his eyes to windward with a catch in his breath.
The strange ship, a darker shape in the night, did not seem to be moving onwards but only to grow more distinct right abeam, staring at the _Ferndale_ with one green and one red eye which swayed and tossed as if they belonged to the restless head of some invisible monster ambushed in the night amongst the waves.

A moment, long like eternity, elapsed, and, suddenly, the monster which seemed to take to itself the shape of a mountain shut its green eye without as much as a preparatory wink.
Mr.Powell drew a free breath.

"All right now," said Captain Anthony in a quiet undertone.