and the awful sight of the sinking bark, Moran at the wheel, the
grewsome business of the shark-fishing, and last of all that
inexplicable lifting and quivering of the schooner. He told
himself that now he would probably never know the explanation of
that mystery.

The day passed in preparations to put to sea again. The deck-tubs
and hogsheads were stowed below and the tackle cleared away. By
evening all was ready; they would be under way by daybreak the
next morning. There was a possibility of their being forced to
tow the schooner out by means of the dory, so light were the airs
inside. Once beyond the heads, however, they were sure of a
breeze.

About ten o'clock that night, the same uncanny trembling ran
through the schooner again, and about half an hour later she
lifted gently once or twice. But after that she was undisturbed.

Later on in the night--or rather early in the morning--Wilbur woke
suddenly in his hammock without knowing why, and got up and stood
listening. The "Bertha Millner" was absolutely quiet. The night
was hot and still; the new moon, canted over like a sinking
galleon, was low over the horizon. Wilbur listened intently, for
now at last he heard something.

Between the schooner and the shore a gentle sound of splashing
came to his ears, and an occasional crack as of oars in their
locks. Was it possible that a boat was there between the schooner
and the land? What boat, and manned by whom?