He remained but a moment, or two, and then hurried back on deck.
Suddenly a gust of wind blew in through the port, and it began to rain
gently, but in huge drops. Far away was the rumble of thunder, echoing
across the open sea. The storm was evidently coming up slowly from the
east, as all the western sky was clear, and streaked with golden red.
Then a sailor--I thought he was Peters, but could not tell--came
shuffling down the companion stairs, his oilskins rustling, and pounded
on the second mate's door.
"All hands, Mr. Broussard!"
There was a muffled response, and the Creole, buttoning his jacket as
he passed, followed the other on deck. A moment later I heard the slow
throb of the engines, and glanced out to note the shore-line slipping
past into the gloom. The _Sea Gull_ was under way.
CHAPTER XXX
WE MAKE THE EFFORT
It would be some time yet--fifteen or twenty minutes at the
best--before I dared attempt to carry out my plan of escape. In spite
of the overspreading cloud, and steady rainfall, daylight lingered in
the west, and a spectral glow hung above the ocean. It was a peculiar,
almost ghastly light, yet of sufficient intensity to render objects
visible for a considerable distance. However, there were preliminaries
to be attended to, and I was eager to be busy.
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