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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

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.


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