There was a small tell-tale compass fastened to a beam over the table.  I unscrewed this without difficulty, and dropped it into my pocket.  It would be a dark night with that cloud shutting out the sky, with probably not a shore light visible.  Then I climbed the companion stairs to take a survey of the deck.  As the cabin lights had none of them been lit, I could stand in the shadow of the hood without fear of being seen, and my eyes, accustomed to the slow approach of darkness, could see fairly well.  No attempt had been made to spread sail, although doubtless a closely reefed jib helped to steady the vessel, which was advancing steadily under medium engine power.  Quietness, and secrecy was clearly the aim sought, for the stacks discharged only a faint haze of smoke, instantly disappearing into the cloud mass above, while the sound of the revolving screws was scarcely discernible.  Nevertheless we were slipping through the water at fair rate of speed, leaving a very perceptible wake astern.  Judging from our present progress the Sea Gull would prove herself a clipper once under full steam.  The open decks glistened with water, although the rainfall was light and intermittent; thunder rumbled to the northward, with occasional flashes of lightning.  Even as I stood there, staring forward, endeavoring to make out certain objects in the gloom, the overhanging cloud seemed to close in across the western sky, instantly plunging us into night.  Like a spectral ship we swept through the slight smother, gently lifted by the long swell, without a light burning fore or aft.  I heard no movement of men, no voice shouting orders, yet before that last gleam faded, I had seen outlined several figures on the bridge.  To better assure myself that no watch was upon the after deck, I circled the cabin, and then, crouching in the shadow of the rail, advanced even with the chart-house.  From this point I could distinguish voices in conversation, but the forms of the men could not be discerned.  Still, without accurately locating them, I had ascertained all I required to know, and made my way back along the slippery deck.  All hands were on duty forward, and would be held there for a time, at least, while the Sea Gull was slipping through the danger zone.  But supper had not been served, and one of the watches might be piped down at any moment.  This would bring one of the mates aft to the cabin.

Driven by the thought, I rapped softly on her door, and she came forth instantly, fully dressed.

“You are ready?”

“Yes.”

“You ’ll need a waterproof of some kind—­it’s raining outside.  Wait a moment; there will be a coat in some of these staterooms.”

I found one, a fisherman’s slicker, and wrapped her in it.  It was a world too big, but I tightened the belt, and turned up the skirts, so she managed to walk.  It would serve to keep her dry, although worn under indignant protest.