THE DECK OF THE SEA GULL The dawn broke gray and desolate, the vista of restless waters growing gradually wider, as the light spread out across the eastern sky.

The clouds yet hung thick and low, yielding a ghastly aspect to the dawn, somberness to the picture of breaking waves tipped by flying vapors of mist.

I sat at the tiller, grasping one of her hands in mine, and staring anxiously about the broadening circle.

The boat in which we rode, while buoyant enough, still bore the outward appearance of a wreck, the broken stump of a mast barely showing sufficiently high to support the flapping jib, and the wet canvas of the mainsail completely concealing everything forward.

The men were lying low, so completely hidden as to be invisible even to us, but the Lieutenant sat upright, with head above the mass of sail, and was scanning the sea with glasses.