from a quarter of an
hour to twenty minutes. The ship must first be hove-to, and her way
ought to be as near lost as possible before the cast is made. Then the
getting along of the line, the stationing of the men, and the sounding
and hauling in again, occupy a good many minutes. By the time it was all
over, on this occasion, it was getting to be night. The misty, drizzling
weather threatened to make the darkness intense, and Mark felt more and
more impressed with the danger in which the ship was placed.

The cast of the lead produced no other result than the certainty that
bottom was not to be found with four hundred fathoms of line out. No
one, however, not even the muzzy Hillson, attached much importance to
this fact, inasmuch as it was known that the coral reefs often rise like
perpendicular walls, in the ocean, having no bottom to be found within a
cable's-length of them. Then Mark did not believe the ship to be within
three leagues of the breakers he had seen, for they had seemed, both to
him and to the seaman who had first reported them, to be several leagues
distant. One on an elevation like that of the top-gallant cross-trees,
could see a long way, and the white water had appeared to Mark to be on
the very verge of the western horizon, even as seen from his lofty
look-out.

After a further consultation with his officers, during which Hillson had
not spared his hits at his less experienced superior, Captain Crutchely
came to a decision, which might be termed semi-prudent. There is nothing
that a seaman more dislikes than to be suspected of extra-nervousness on
the subject of doubtful dangers of this sort. Seen and acknowledged, he
has no scruples about doing his best to avoid them; but so long as there
is an uncertainty connected with their existence at all, that miserable
feeling of vanity which renders us all so desirous to be more than
nature ever intended us for, inclines most men to appear indifferent
even while they dread. The wisest thing Captain Crutchely could have
done, placed in the circumstances in which he now found himself, would
have been to stand off and on, under easy canvas, until the return of
light, when he might have gone ahead on his course with some confidence,
and a great deal more of safety. But there would have been an air of
concession to the power of an unknown danger that conflicted with his
pride, in such a course, and the old and well-tried ship-master did not
like to give the 'u