The man at the wheel repeated his former intelligence, adding a
suggestion, that he thought the ship "was gathering stern way."

"Haul up your courses, Mr. Griffith," said Captain Munson, "and let us
feel the wind."

The rattling of the blocks was soon heard, and the enormous sheets of
canvas that hung from the lower yards were instantly suspended "in the
brails." When this change was effected, all on board stood silent and
breathless, as if expecting to learn their fate by the result. Several
contradictory opinions were, at length, hazarded among the officers,
when Griffith seized the candle from the lantern, and springing on one
of the guns, held it on high, exposed to the action of the air. The
little flame waved, with uncertain glimmering, for a moment, and then
burned steadily, in a line with the masts. Griffith was about to lower
his extended arm, when, feeling a slight sensation of coolness on his
hand, he paused, and the light turned slowly toward the land, flared,
flickered, and finally deserted the wick.

"Lose not a moment, Mr. Griffith," cried the pilot aloud; "clew up and
furl everything but your three topsails, and let them be double-reefed.
Now is the time to fulfill your promise."

The young man paused one moment, in astonishment, as the clear, distinct
tones of the stranger struck his ears so unexpectedly; but turning his
eyes to seaward, he sprang on the deck, and proceeded to obey the order,
as if life and death depended on his dispatch.