But it was a garment of far-flung amplitude, woven on the shadowy loom of night and the sea, and from such mysterious warp and weft is often produced the sable robe of tragedy and death.

It was so now, within an ace.

At one instance, the restless plain of the ocean seemed to bear no other argosy than the _Andromeda_; in the next, Hozier's quick-moving glance had caught the pallid sheen of some small craft's starboard light.

No need to tell him what might happen.

A sailing vessel, probably a fishing smack, was crossing the steamer's course.