And you hear that fellow with a frog in his throat--a steam schooner as near as I can judge, crawlin' in from the Heads against the tide." A shrill little whistle, piping as if gone mad, came from directly ahead and from very near at hand.

Gongs sounded on the _Martinez_.

Our paddle-wheels stopped, their pulsing beat died away, and then they started again.

The shrill little whistle, like the chirping of a cricket amid the cries of great beasts, shot through the fog from more to the side and swiftly grew faint and fainter.

I looked to my companion for enlightenment.
"One of them dare-devil launches," he said.