Except for a group of sailors doing some sail patching in the shade of the charthouse, no one was visible.

The vessel rocked gently, and far forward there was a sound of hammering.

The mate would be there, overseeing the job whatever it might be.

There was a dark cloud overshadowing the eastern horizon, with zigzag flashes of lightning showing along its edge, but the sea was barely rippled.

There was no sign of any boat along the beach of the cove, and the fishermen had disappeared, not a glimmer of white sail showing above the waters.