Jack and Ray both looked and beheld the dimmed lights of a sailing vessel coming out of the mist and dead toward them. But Old Mitchell had seen them too, and in a moment he became a man of action. He saw that he could not cross the on-coming vessel’s bow without being run down, so he threw over the helm and hauled in upon the sheet and in a jiffy the Betsy Anne had come up into the wind and almost to a full stop. At the same time the old man shouted at the top of his voice:
“Ay, there, port yer ’elm, port ’er, ye bloody lubbers. Why n’t ye look where yer goin’. Blime ’e hif ’e ain’t awkkerd.”
The man at the wheel of the larger vessel had acted as quickly as Mitchell, however, and the next moment a big yawl slipped through the fog not ten feet from the Betsy Anne. And as the ghostly craft faded out of sight again, Ray seized Jack by the arm and asked:
“Jack, did you get a good look at her?”
“No,” said the young Vermonter. “Why?”
“Well it was a yawl—and—and—oh, well, it looked sort of familiar, that was all.”
CHAPTER X
THE CHASE
Jack awoke with a start. He knew instinctively that some one had been gazing at him while he slept and his feeling was that of impending trouble. He sat up quickly and turned to find Ray’s eyes fastened upon him. The erstwhile swordfisherman was sitting up in bed, his back resting against the head board and his arms clasped about his knees.
“Hi you, Ray! Why, you startled the life out of me. What are you sitting there like a stone idol for, cheating an honest fellow out of his sleep, by staring at him with trouble in your eyes. How long have you been awake?”