Greenwood continued to walk the deck along the life-line, which had been extended fore and aft for the safety of the officers and seamen on duty. As the fourth master had suggested, the sound was not heard again till nearly another half-hour had elapsed. Then it was heard, and so distinctly that Richards thought there could be no mistake about it this time. “I heard it myself,” said the officer of the deck when the report was made to him. “I will thank you to call the captain, and inform him that signal-guns have been heard on the weather-bow.” Richards came down from his perch in the weather rigging, and went below. Wainwright awoke from a heavy slumber at the knock on his door; but he was himself at once, and inquired carefully into the matter of the report till he had satisfied himself that guns had really been heard. Hastily putting on his pea-jacket, he went on deck. All hands gazed earnestly at him as he appeared, and watched his movements with intense interest. The vice-principal was not on board, and Capt. Wainwright was the supreme authority. Mr. Primback, the senior professor, who was nominally the head of the institution in the absence of the vice-principal, knew no more about a ship, or about nautical matters, than a man that had never seen the ocean. The adult boatswain and carpenter were seamen, and were competent advisers; but they were without authority in the absence of Mr. Pelham. While Capt. Wainwright was inquiring into the situation, the signal-gun was repeated; and this time it could be plainly heard by all on deck. It was more nearly on the beam than before. The Tritonia was on her course. The wind, which had been rather variable during the night, was now from the north, veering to the west. The vessel in distress was therefore almost dead to windward. “Brace her sharp up, Mr. Greenwood,” said the captain, as soon as he had fully taken in the situation. The first lieutenant gave the necessary orders in detail to carry out the command of the captain. The Tritonia promptly answered her helm, and, coming up into the wind, rose upon the tremendous sea, and then darted down into the trough, while the crest of the wave broke upon her top-gallant forecastle. “We can’t make much beating to windward under a double-reefed foresail, in such a sea as this,” said Greenwood. “I am afraid not,” replied the captain, as he returned to the cabin to inform the senior professor of the action he had taken. “How do you know it is a ship in distress?” asked Mr. Primback, greatly disturbed by the announcement. “Ships at sea don’t fire guns for nothing in such a sea as this,” answered Wainwright. “It may be an engagement between a French and a German vessel; for France and Germany are unhappily at war with each other at this time,” suggested the professor. “I think not, sir; for vessels in action would be likely to fire oftener than once in half an hour,” replied the captain.