It winked out occasionally, then presently reappeared. But
it did not move in an aimless fashion, after the manner of gaseous or
electrical phenomena. It pursued a straight line toward the
_Vulcan_. That was why Madden had not observed its movement sooner.
Although it had crept only a little way down from the horizon, the
wondering boy could discern its progress plainly among the dark masses
of seaweed that blotched the graying water. The light was moving toward
the _Vulcan_ and at a high rate of speed.
As he watched it, the enigmatical light suddenly disappeared. The youth
blinked his eyes, looked again. It was gone. Then he became a little
uncertain whether or not he had ever observed any such phenomenon. He
glanced down on the dark deck and could faintly discern the form of the
cook.
"Gaskin!" he called sharply, "Gaskin!"
To his surprise the drunken fellow stirred and made some mumbling reply.
"Get up. I want to know whether or not you can see anything."
Came a sluggish stirring from below, and then Gaskin's voice, in which
deference struggled with a bad headache, "Yes, sor, I can see
hever'thing as usual, sor."
"I thought I saw a light to the south. Just take a look in that quarter,
will you?"
The dopy cook scuffled to his feet and stumbled over to the rail, hung
there, peering intently southward.
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