The Argosy, Vol. XXIV, No. 1 — page 136: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

136 THE MUTINY ON THE FLYING CLOUD. He luckily checks his spring in time. ‘To seize the boat hook and strike savagely at the waiting shark with its point follows as a matter of course ; and then the skipper returns thanks not only for his escape, but also that the events he had just been witnessing are nothing more than an ugly dream, Blake’s next act is to haul in the lines which have dropped from his nerveless hands during sleep, and which would unquestionably have been lost had he not taken the precaution to make them fast ; and he finds to his chagrin that not only the bait but also the hooks have been carried off. He therefore neatly coils up his fishing tackle preparatory to shaping a course for home; for the moon is on the verge of the western horizon, and he knows therefore that it is past midnight. | Moreover, though the breeze is rather fresher than it was and the horizon is clear, there is a murkiness in the atmosphere overhead which portends a change of weather; and as he looks knowingly about him he gives audible expression to his opinion that there will be but little work done in the ship yard on the morrow. SE CHAPTER XXV.—A STRANGE Sart. THE grapnel is lifted, and the skipper, attaching the handle to the winch, begins to masthead the yard of the solitary sail which propels the raft. As he does so his eyes are directed towards the moon, now slowly sinking beneath the horizon. Ha! what is that? The labor at the winch is suspended, a hasty turn is taken with the halyard, and Captain Blake strains forward, his eyes shaded by both hands, the better to observe that black spot which is slowly gliding athwart the moon’s pale face. Little need is there, though, for him to look so intently to ascertain what that black spot really is ; it is more for the purpose of assuring himself that his eyes are not playing him false, or that he is not once more the victim of a dream. No; thisis notadream. He is wide awake enough now, and his mind is busy with a thousand tumultuous thoughts, for as he watches, clear and unmistakable glide the upper sails of a large ship across the face of the sinking planet. She is steering south, but whether easterly or westerly it is impossible to say as she stands out silhouette-like against her golden background ; but one thing is plain—she is moving very slowly. The skipper darts to the compass—one of a pair saved from the wreck of the Mermaid—and striking a match, which he carefully shelters from the wind in the crown of his cap, he manages to take her bearing before she vanishes from his sight. He next completes the setting of his sail, hauls aft the sheet, and, jamming the raft close upon the wind, asks himself what is the best thing to do. To return to the island will consume an hour of most precious time ; and when there what could he do to attract the stranger’s attention? Nothing more than light a huge bonfire ; and the only spot suitable for this is the Eomichbook : 1 ‘ ; 4 3 3 .