“Yes, it is here, to the Dogger Bank, that they resort for the most part, and to one or two other places perhaps in the world besides.  That is the reason that there is always a sort of corpse sand in the water here, and so many noises and things that one can’t explain.”

There was a general start as he said this, and they looked at one another in silence; for it seemed as if the vessel had suddenly stopped with a shock in the middle of her course, and the spray from a heavy sea came pouring down over the deck.

“She heard it,” said the carpenter, involuntarily; “she is an old craft, and doesn’t like going over the churchyard.”

Elizabeth thought that last proposition sounded so uncomfortable that she got up and went below to bed.

The sea ran high in the night, and the vessel kept pitching with dull thuds as if they were in very shoal water, which, however, the lead showed not to be the case.  In the morning the chain-cable of the anchor was found tossed by the force of the sand-laden seas right over the deck, and arranged there with a certain regularity.  To many of the crew it seemed clear that other than natural causes must have been at work; there were evidently “dead hands” upon the bank, and this was a warning.  Nils shook his head and said nothing.

All the morning they were enveloped in a thick sea fog that surrounded them like a wall; but towards noon the sun began to appear like a sickly gleam above them, and by dinner-time they were sailing under a clear sky, and in a fresh green breezy sea, with sails on every side.

It was an exhilarating sight, and reminded Elizabeth of the days of her childhood.  She called Salve over to share her enjoyment of it.

Of all the vessels in sight, the handsomest, without comparison, was the North Star, a Norwegian corvette, well known along the coast of Norway, and which had often aroused Elizabeth’s enthusiasm in earlier days.  She was crossing their course, and standing under full sail for the Channel.  Elizabeth recognised her at once, and exclaimed decisively—­

“That is the North Star—­isn’t she a magnificent ship, Salve!  See, they are taking in the topsails; they look like a flock of birds up there on the yard among those beautiful big sails.  Did you ever see anything so grand as her shape? and how majestically she ploughs through the sea!  When she has all her canvas spread like that, I could fancy Tordenskjold himself on board of her in full chase.”

Salve looked straight before him and didn’t answer.  He knew, what Elizabeth had not the faintest suspicion of, that Lieutenant Beck was on board the North Star, as third in command for that year’s cruise in the Mediterranean, whither she was now bound; and a host of unpleasant associations were raised by Elizabeth’s innocent admiration of her.

“It was the North Star,” she continued, “that beat through the straits of Gibraltar against the current when none of the others could.”  The North Star had long ago taken the place of the Naiad as her heroine ship, and she related the performance with a certain pride.