--In ten or fifteen minutes more, the vessel
was again abeam of the raft, and to windward.
"If she pass us now, our chance is gone, without a shadow of hope;" said
the Skimmer, motioning solemnly for silence. Then, applying his hands to
his mouth, he shouted, as if despair lent a giant's volume to his lungs--
"Ho! The Water-Witch!--ahoy!"
The last word issued from his lips with the clear, audible cry, that the
peculiar sound is intended to produce. It appeared as if the conscious
little bark knew its commander's voice; for its course changed slightly,
as if the fabric were possessed of the consciousness and faculties of
life.
"Ho! The Water-Witch!--ahoy!" shouted the Skimmer, with a still mightier
effort.
"--Hilloa!" came down faintly on the breeze, and the direction of the
brigantine again altered.
"The Water-Witch!--the Water-Witch!--ahoy!" broke out of the lips of the
mariner of the shawl, with a supernatural force,--the last cry being drawn
out, till he who uttered it sunk back exhausted with the effort.
The words were still ringing in the ears of the breathless party on the
raft, when a heavy shout swept across the water. At the next moment the
boom of the brigantine swung off, and her narrow bows were seen pointing
towards the little beacon of white that played above the sea. It was but a
moment, but it was a moment pregnant with a thousand hopes and fears,
before the beautiful craft was gliding within fifty feet of the top.
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