head. “You fools are afraid of our own dry dock,” he whispered briefly. “We've traveled in a circle and reached the dock again.”
“Oh, no, sor, it ain't that! Tain't th' dry-dock, sor!” aspirated several fear-struck voices.
The crew held their breaths as if the apparition might vanish as suddenly as it appeared.
By this time the moon lay flat on the sea, throwing a faint shining streak across the dark Sargasso. This vague light was enough to show Madden, when he took a close look, that it was not the dock.
The thing he saw was an enormous mass without the severe angular shape of the great dock. Its outline rose crude and shapeless, as well as he could trace it among the canopy of stars, and gave not the slightest intimation as to what use it could be.
As they stared, the speed of the Vulcan slackened sensibly. The faint rippling of water under the prow ceased. The breeze fell away into a dead blanket of heat. It was as if a sweatbox had been cooped over the crew.
“The thing's cut loose from us,” said a weary voice.
