The After House

"Good-night."

"Good-night, Miss Lee."

"I--I feel very safe with you on guard," she said, and held out

her hand. I took it in mine, with my heart leaping. It was as

cold as ice.

That night, at four bells, I mustered the crew as silently as

possible around the jollyboat, and we lowered it into the water.

The possibility of a dead calm had convinced me that the sooner it

was done the better. We arranged to tow the boat astern, and

Charlie Jones suggested a white light in its bow, so we could be

sure at night that it had not broken loose.

Accordingly, we attached to the bow of the jolly-boat a tailed

block with an endless fall riven through it, so as to be able to

haul in and refill the lantern. Five bells struck by the time we

had arranged the towing-line.

We dropped the jolly-boat astern and made fast the rope. It gave

me a curious feeling, that small boat rising and falling behind us,

with its dead crew, and its rocking light, and, on its side above

the water-line, the black cross--a curious feeling of pursuit, as

if, across the water, they in the boat were following us. And,

perhaps because the light varied, sometimes it seemed to drop behind,

as if wearying of the chase, and again, in great leaps, to be

overtaking us, to be almost upon us.

An open boat with a small white light and a black cross on the side.