Most fortunately the sea did not "brime," as the West-countrymen say, when the very meshes of their nets turn into threads of gold through the presence of the myriad phosphorescent creatures that swarm so thickly at times that the surface of the sea looks as if it could be skimmed to clear it of so much lambent liquid gold. This was what was wanted, for with a phosphorescent sea, every dip of the oar, every wavelet which broke against the boat, would have served as signal to warn the watch on board the gunboat that enemies were near. But unfortunately, on the other hand, there was the darkness profound, and not the scintillation of a riding light to show where the gunboat lay. They knew that she was about two miles from shore, and as nearly as could be made out just at the mouth of the channel along which the _Teal_ had been piloted to enable her to reach the sanctuary in which she lay. But where was she now? The answer did not come to the watchers who with straining eyes strove to make out the long, low, dark hull, the one mast, and the dwarfed and massive funnel, but strove in vain. Fitz's heart sank, for the successful issue of his exploit seemed to be fading away, and minute by minute it grew more evident that there was not the slightest likelihood of their discovering the object of their search; so that in a voice tinged by the despair he felt, he whispered his orders to the boatswain to tell the men to cease rowing. Then for what seemed to be quite a long space of time, they lay rising and falling upon the heaving sea, listening, straining their eyes, but all in vain; and at last, warned by the feeling that unless something was done they were bound to lose touch of their position when they wanted to make back for the mouth of the little river, Fitz whispered an order to the boatswain to keep the gig's head straight off shore, and then turned to lay his hand on Poole's shoulder and, with his lips close to his ear, whisper-- "What's to be done?" "Don't know," came back. "This is a regular floorer." The boy's heart sank lower still at this, but feeling that he was in command, he made an effort to pull himself together. "In the bright lexicon of youth there is no such word as fail," seemed to begin ringing as if at a great distance into his ears, and he rose up in his place, steadied himself by a hand on his companion's shoulder, and slowly swept the horizon; that is to say, the lower portion of the sky, to which the stars did not descend. In vain!