I thought rapidly. If Mac had seen anything, I did not believe it
was the watchman. But there should be a watchman on board--in the
forward house, probably. I gave Mac my revolver and put the light
in my pocket. I might want both hands that night. I saw better
without the flash, and, guided partly by the bow light, partly by
my knowledge of the yacht, I led the way across the deck. The
forward house was closed and locked, and no knocking produced any
indication of life. The after house we found not only locked, but
barred across with strips of wood nailed into place. The forecastle
was likewise closed. It was a dead ship.

No figure reappearing to alarm him, Mac took the drawing out of his
pocket and focused the flashlight on it.

"This cross by the mainmast," he said "that would be where?"

"Right behind you, there."

He walked to the mast, and examined carefully around its base.
There was nothing there, and even now I do not know to what that
cross alluded, unless poor Schwartz--!

"Then this other one--forward, you call it, don't you? Suppose we
locate that."

All expectation of the watchman having now died, we went forward
on the port side to the approximate location of the cross. This
being in the neighborhood where Mac had thought he saw something
move, we approached with extreme caution. But nothing more ominous
was discovered than the port lifeboat, nothing more ghostly heard