“Tropical seas grow very luminous when disturbed... a school of dolphins or sharks on the other side the schooner might——”
“This must be a reg'lar fire!” cried Mulcher. “Nothin' but a furnace in th' hold——”
“W'y don't hit smoke?”
“'Ow do I know?”
“Hit ain't a fire!”
“W'ot is hit?”
“Phosphescence, didn't you 'ear Mister Madden say!”
“Will hit sink 'er?”
Deschaillon gave a sharp laugh. “What sauvages!”
By this time it became clear to everyone that it was not a fire. As the weird illumination continued its fantastic gambols, little points of light began moving about the deck.
Just then Caradoc's grave voice hazarded: “That must be an extraordinary display of St. Elmo's fire. I should say a storm was brewing.”
“Would St. Elmo's fire 'urt th' vessel, sir?” asked a cockney.
“Not at all,” replied the Englishman.
As Leonard stared a queer thought came into
