It was gone.
"Good-bye, Lucifer, proud spirit," Maud whispered, so low that it was drowned by the shouting of the wind; but I saw the movement of her lips and knew.
As we clung to the lee rail and worked our way aft, I happened to glance to leeward.

The _Ghost_, at the moment, was uptossed on a sea, and I caught a clear view of a small steamship two or three miles away, rolling and pitching, head on to the sea, as it steamed toward us.

It was painted black, and from the talk of the hunters of their poaching exploits I recognized it as a United States revenue cutter.

I pointed it out to Maud and hurriedly led her aft to the safety of the poop.
I started to rush below to the flag-locker, then remembered that in rigging the _Ghost_.

I had forgotten to make provision for a flag-halyard.
"We need no distress signal," Maud said.