"Port or starboard?"

There was a short delay in answer this time. On the quarter-deck,
under the poop, bare feet shuffled. Somebody coughed. At last the voice
forward said doubtfully:

"Kanan."

"Call the serang, Mr. Shaw," said Lingard, calmly, "and have the hands
turned up. They are all lying about the decks. Look sharp now. There's
something near us. It's annoying to be caught like this," he added in a
vexed tone.

He crossed over to the starboard side, and stood listening, one hand
grasping the royal back-stay, his ear turned to the sea, but he could
hear nothing from there. The quarter-deck was filled with subdued
sounds. Suddenly, a long, shrill whistle soared, reverberated loudly
amongst the flat surfaces of motionless sails, and gradually grew faint
as if the sound had escaped and gone away, running upon the water. Haji
Wasub was on deck and ready to carry out the white man's commands. Then
silence fell again on the brig, until Shaw spoke quietly.

"I am going forward now, sir, with the tindal. We're all at stations."

"Aye, Mr. Shaw. Very good. Mind they don't board you--but I can hear
nothing. Not a sound. It can't be much."

"The fellow has been dreaming, no doubt. I have good ears, too, and--"

He went forward and the end of his sentence was lost in an indistinct