sumed definite direction, as if the stranger were guided by a fell instinct beyond the ken of her own officers. The Wasdale's siren ripped the night with quavering exhortation to hold hard and beware.
Suddenly the captain gripped the bridge rail and lifted himself on his toes with a smothered "Gott!" that was wrenched from the depths of his broad chest. Two lights blinked, red and green, almost abeam, and between them a towering mass dead black against the shrouding night, while amazed voices were heard screaming a flurry of orders from the fog, even before the roar of both whistles sounded a belated duet.
Captain Arendt was at his indicator with a leap and was like to pull the handle from its sockets as he signaled to reverse his engines, while his chief officer was shouting down the tube the same momentous summons. The third officer was softly treading a little jig-step, in a frenzy of impatience to have the thing done without more suspense. The Wasdale groaned and trembled to the furious reaction of her screw, lost headway, hung helpless,
