have
been better perhaps to have lowered down the second boat sooner. But I
think we have done our best. Can you make them hear from this
distance?"

"Yes, I think so; a voice will travel far over the smooth water on a
still night like this. Shall I recall them?"

Captain Thwaites was silent for a full minute, and we all stood gazing
aft at the faint stars on the black water, while to right and left were
those that were more dim and distant, being the paper lanterns of the
house-boats moored a short distance from the bank.

Then the captain spoke again, and his words re-illumined the parting
light of hope which flashed up like an expiring flame.

"Do you think he has struck out straight for the shore?"

"He may have done so, sir," replied Mr Reardon, as we all stood in a
knot together on the quarter-deck, "but he could never have reached it."

"Not in this mill-race of a tide!" said Captain Thwaites. "Recall the
boats."

But Mr Reardon made no sign. He stood there gazing through the
night-glass for some moments, and the captain spoke again.

"Recall the boats, Mr Reardon."

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the lieutenant, with quite a start.
"Aloft there! Who's in the foretop?"

"Ay, ay, sir; Jecks, sir."

I shivered.

"Hail the boats to come back."

The man did not answer for a moment, and Mr Reardon made an angry
gesture, but just then Tom Jecks, with his hands to his mouth, sent
forth a hoarse deep-toned roar.

Then there was a pause and a faintly-heard hail came from far away, the
zig-zagging movement of the boats ceased, and we saw one of them, that
is to say one of the lights, glide slowly toward the other, till one was
apparently only a short distance in front, and the other following.

"Let me know when the boats come alongside, Mr Reardon," said the
captain quietly.

"Yes, sir."

"And, by the way, I'll trouble you for my night-glass."

Mr Reardon gave a violent start.

"Your night-glass, sir?" he said.

"Yes, mine; you borrowed it."

The lieutenant handed the telescope without a word, and at another time
we should all have had to turn away to smother the desire to burst out
laughing, as we recalled the irritable remarks about the idiot to whom
the glass belonged, and the wretchedness of his eyesight, coupled with
an opinion that he ought to be dismissed the service.

But it was not a time for mirth: we were all too sad, and Barkins
contented himself with whispering--

"I say