"I hardly dare."

"Oh, go on! I don't believe you can. How would you do it?"

"How would I do it? Why, just this way." He crumpled his hands
together and blew between the knuckles of his thumbs a low, resonant,
gruffly humming note.

They were hidden now by the bow of the life-boat and were standing
quite close together. They noticed that the figure in the
steamer-chair nearest them had suddenly raised itself a little and
then had sat bolt upright. The old admiral, the mist in his gray
whiskers, turned one ear forward and listened attentively.

The gray wall had grown a little whiter, less opaque; they could see
now the whole length of the ship, out to the lifting stern.

"Oh, go on," tempted the girl; "do it again--louder!"

Mr. Masterson looked at her.

"Oh, _please_ do," she pleaded; "real loud. I dare you to!"

He slowly raised his hands, the thumb-knuckles to his lips again.
There sounded two deep, long-drawn, half-roaring, thrilling notes, for
all the world like steam in the cup of a great metal whistle.

Footsteps, hurried and quick, rushed overhead on the bridge. A hoarse
voice shouted orders. The quartermaster spun the wheel. Now: