Wylie was sitting on the taffrail and conversing with Slocum, when the
lookout forward sung out, "Sail ho!"

Another voice almost simultaneously yelled out of the fog, "Port your
helm!"

Suddenly out of the mist, and close aboard the _Maria,_ appeared the hull
and canvas of a large ship. The brig was crossing her course, and her
great bowsprit barely missed the brig's mainsail. It stood for a moment
over Wylie's head. He looked up, and there was the figure-head of the
ship looming almost within his reach. It was a colossal green woman; one
arm extended grasped a golden harp, the other was pressed to her head in
the attitude of holding back her wild and flowing hair. The face seemed
to glare down upon the two men. In another moment the monster, gliding
on, just missing the brig, was lost in the fog.

"That was a narrow squeak," said Slocum.

Wylie made no answer, but looked into the darkness after the vessel.

He had recognized her figure-head.


It was the _Shannon!_


CHAPTER XIV.