Sailors are nothing if not superstitious, and I could see that the unusual sight had sent a stir of consternation through the ship. “What do you make her out to be?” roared Seal to the look-out man. “Never saw such a thing before, sir,” responded the man in oilskins; “maybe she’s one o’ them secret submarine inventions of the French what’s come to the surface”—a suggestion which pleased the crew mightily, and was greeted with a chorus of laughter. “Submarine be hanged!” exclaimed one old seaman whom I had heard addressed as Dicky Dunn. “It’s old Noah a-making for Marseilles! Can’t yer see the big square port in the stern where he lets his bloomin’ pigeons out?” And so the suggestions went on, and while the Thrush rapidly bore down with full steam ahead, with the salt spray flying across her bows, the mystery of our discovery increased. Thrush CHAPTER II WHAT WE SAW AND WHAT WE HEARD WHAT WE SAW AND WHAT WE HEARD WHAT WE SAW AND WHAT WE HEARD “Well, I’m blowed!” Well The simple ejaculation was Seal’s, but the words of the sentence were most expressive. The strange object was now but a few cable lengths of us, and certainly the skipper’s surprise was shared by every one of us. Even the blackened, half-naked stokers had emerged on deck and stood gazing at it with wide-open eyes. Job Seal, the big, roaring man, dauntless of every thing, stood leaning over the bridge and glaring aghast at his discovery. And well he might, for surely no similar object sailed the sea in these modern days. In the sea, close behind one another, rode two wooden houses, three-storeyed, and having big square windows of thick glass. So near were we to it that now, for the first time, I could distinguish that there was a submerged connexion between the two objects above the surface. Then, in a flash, the astounding truth dawned upon me. It was an ancient ship of that curious Elizabethan build, like those I had seen in pictures of the Spanish
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