The sky continued grey and overcast, with an occasional slight sprinkle of rain, and a stiff breeze.

The barometer falling steadily until, on the 14th March, it had reached as low as 29.96, about the usual standard of the trade winds.
That night brought, however, a slight relief from the long dullness.

It was just midnight when the startling cry of "Sail, ho! close aboard!" was heard from the look-out; and in less than five minutes the Alabama was within hailing distance of a large ship standing close on a wind towards the northward and westward.
"Ship ahoy!--what ship's that ?" rang hoarsely through the speaking-trumpet from the deck of the Alabama.

But no answer came, and the hail was repeated.

Still no answer, the strange sail keeping steadily on her course, regardless of every thing, her huge hull towering up high and dark as she passed almost within harpooning distance of the Alabama, and shot away again into the darkness, like a phantom that on being spoken to, had vanished away.
But the Alabama could have brought-to the Flying Dutchman himself, if he had attempted to pass by without answering a hail.