“Nothing more probable, in so light a breeze Your coasters are in and out, like water-rats on a wharf, at any hour of the twenty-four—­and yet to me it seems the comb of a breaking sea.”

“’Tis snow-white duck; such as your swift rover wears on his loftier spars!”

“A duck that is flown,” returned the stranger drily, “for it is no longer to be seen.  These fly-aways, Captain Ludlow, give us seamen many sleepless nights and idle chases.  I was once running down the coast of Italy, between the island of Corsica and the main, when one of these delusions beset the crew, in a manner that hath taught me to put little faith in eyes, unless backed by a clear horizon and a cool head.”

“I’ll hear the circumstance,” said Ludlow, withdrawing his gaze from the distant ocean, like one who was satisfied his senses had been deceived.  “What of this marvel of the Italian seas?”

“A marvel truly, as your Honor will confess, when I read you the affair, much in the words I had it logged, for the knowledge of all concerned.  It was the last hour of the second dog-watch, on Easter-Sunday, with the wind here at south-east, easterly.  A light air filled the upper canvas, and just gave us command of the ship.  The mountains of Corsica, with Monte Christo and Elba, had all been sunk some hours, and we were on the yards, keeping a look-out for a land-fall on the Roman coast.  A low, thick bank of drifting fog lay along the sea, in-shore of us, which all believed to be the sweat of the land, and thought no more of; though none wished to enter it, for that is a coast where foul airs rise, and through which the gulls and land-birds refuse to fly.  Well, here we lay, the mainsail in the brails, the top-sails beating the mast-heads, like a maiden fanning herself when she sees her lover, and nothing full but the upper duck, with the sun fairly below the water in the western board.  I was then young, and quick of eye, as of foot, and therefore among the first to see the sight!”

“Which was——?” said Ludlow, interested in spite of his assumed air of indifference.

“Why, here just above the bank of foul air, that ever rests on that coast, there was seen an object, that looked like ribs of bright light, as if a thousand stars had quitted their usual berths in the heaven, to warn us off the land, by a supernatural beacon.  The sight was in itself altogether out of nature and surprising.  As the night thickened, it grew brighter and more glowing, as if ’twere meant in earnest to warn us from the coast.  But when the word was passed to send the glasses aloft, there was seen a glittering cross on high, and far above the spars on which earthly ships carry their private signals.”

“This was indeed extraordinary! and what did you, to come at the character of the heavenly symbol?”

“We wore off shore, and left it a clear berth for bolder mariners.  Glad enough was I to see, with the morning sun, the snowy hills of Corsica, again!”