All was still down there. He raised his
voice a little:
"You told me to let you know directly I lost sight of the yacht."
The sound of a stifled groan reached the attentive Carter and a weary
voice said, "All right, I am coming."
When Lingard stepped out on the poop of the Lightning the open water
had turned purple already in the evening light, while to the east the
Shallows made a steely glitter all along the sombre line of the shore.
Lingard, with folded arms, looked over the sea. Carter approached him
and spoke quietly.
"The tide has turned and the night is coming on. Hadn't we better get
away from these Shoals, sir?"
Lingard did not stir.
"Yes, the night is coming on. You may fill the main topsail, Mr.
Carter," he said and he relapsed into silence with his eyes fixed in
the southern board where the shadows were creeping stealthily toward the
setting sun. Presently Carter stood at his elbow again.
"The brig is beginning to forge ahead, sir," he said in a warning tone.
Lingard came out of his absorption with a deep tremor of his powerful
frame like the shudder of an uprooted tree.
"How was the yacht heading when you lost sight of her?" he asked.
"South as near as possible," answered Carter. "Will you give me a course
to steer for the night, sir?"
Lingard's lips trembled before he spoke but his voice was calm.
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