is was the first responsible position Mr. Pennant had been called
upon to fill, and he knew that his future depended in a large measure
upon the skill and fidelity with which he obeyed his orders. His crew
believed in him, and they were very painstaking in their efforts to work
in silence. He had stationed quartermaster Vincent in the bow of the
boat as the lookout, and he was industriously peering out into the gloom
of the fog and darkness to discover a vessel or a boat. He had heard the
sounds himself, and he knew there was something there. When the boat had
pulled about fifteen minutes, Vincent raised his hand up into the air;
this was a signal which the third lieutenant understood, for he had
arranged several of them with the quartermaster.

"Stand by to lay on your oars," said Mr. Pennant in the lowest tones
that could be heard by the crew. "Oars!"

At the last order the men levelled their oars, feathering the blades,
and remained like eight statues in their seats. Vincent listened with
all his ears in the dead silence which prevailed.

"I hear the voices again," he reported to the lieutenant in the stern
sheets, in a voice just loud enough to reach him; "they are more to the
southward."

"Stand by!" added Mr. Pennant, who had been duly trained in boat service
at an oar. "Give way together! No noise!"

The boat went ahead again, though only at a moderate speed consistent
with the least possible noise. The quartermaster in the bow continued to
gaze into the fog bank, though by this time there was a little lighting
up in the east, indicating that the day was breaking. For half an hour
longer the cutter continued on its course. Occasionally Vincent had
raised his hand over his head, and then dropped it to his left,
indicating to the officer in command that the sounds came from farther
to the southward, and the cockswain was directed to change the course.

In another half hour the noises could be distinctly heard by the third
lieutenant, and he directed the course of the cutter without the need of
any more signals from the bow. His first move was to make a more decided
course to the southward. Then he hastened the crew in their work.

"Sail, ho!" called Vincent, who had not abated his vigilance on the
lookout; and he pointed with his right hand in the direction he had seen
the craft.

Mr. Pennant concluded that the sail could not be far off, or it could
not be seen, and it would be useless to maintain the dead