"Seems to me as though it sounded from yonder," says Jackson, looking
away over the starboard beam of the boat.
"What have ye there, men?" says I, nodding at a bundle of canvas under
the amidship thwart.
"Ship's bread," answered Jackson, with a note of sulkiness in his
voice. "It was hove to us on my asking for a bite. She was a liberal
barque. The cask's more 'n three-quarters full."
We hung upon our oars listening and waiting. There was a second gun
ten minutes after the first had been fired, and that was the last we
heard. The report was thin and distant, but whether ahead or astern I
could not have guessed by harkening. I kept up my own and endeavoured
to inspirit the hearts of the others by saying that this fog which had
come down in a moment would end in a moment, that it was all clear sky
above with plenty of moonlight for us in the night if it should happen
that the sun went down upon us thus, that Captain Blow was not going
to lose us and his boat and the cask of fresh water if it was in
mortal seamanship to hold a vessel in one situation; but the fellows
were not to be cheered, their spirits sank and their faces grew longer
as the complexion of the fog told us that the sun was sinking fast,
and I own that when it came at last to his setting, and no break in
the flying vapour, and a blackness as of ink stealing into it out of
the swift tropic dusk, I myself felt horribly dejected, greatly
fearing that we had lost the brig for good.
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