"You are a poor butler, and an indifferent sailor, I believe," she
said, "but you are rather a dear. Thank you."

She left me, alternately uplifted and sheepish. But that night I
took a blanket and a pillow into the storeroom, and spread my six
feet of length along the greatest diameter of a four-by-seven pantry.

And that night, also, between six and seven bells, with the storm
subsided and only a moderate sea, Schwartz, the second mate, went
overboard--went without a cry, without a sound.

Singleton, relieving him at four o'clock, found his cap lying near
starboard, just forward of the after house. The helmsman and the
two men in the lookout reported no sound of a struggle. The lookout
had seen the light of his cigar on the forecastle-head at six bells
(three o'clock). At seven bells he had walked back to the helmsman
and commented cheerfully on the break in the weather. That was the
last seen of him.

The alarm was raised when Singleton went on watch at four o'clock.
The Ella was heaved to and the lee boat lowered. At the same time
life-buoys were thrown out, and patent lights. But the early summer
dawn revealed a calm ocean; and no sign of the missing mate.

At ten o'clock the order was reluctantly given to go on.




CHAPTER V