Chapter 8
Thiswasonephaseofthatfirsthalf-hour.Uponthehighbridge,isolatedfromalltheindoorlifeofthepassengers,therewasanotherphase.Thewatcheshadbeenrelievedatteno’clock,whentheshiphadsettleddownforthequietestandleasteventfulperiodofthewholetwenty-fourhours.TheFirstOfficer,Mr.Murdoch,wasincommandofthebridge,andwithhimwasMr.Boxhall,theFourthOfficer,andtheusuallook-outstaff.Themoonhadset,andthenightwasverycold,clearandstarry,exceptwherehereandthereaslighthazehungonthesurfaceofthewater.CaptainSmith,towhomthenightoftheseawaslikeday,andtowhomalltheinvisibletracksandroadsoftheAtlanticwereasfamiliarasFleetStreetistoaDailyTelegraphreporter,hadbeeninthechartroombehindthebridgetoplotoutthecourseforthenight,andafterwardshadgonetohisroomtoliedown.Twopairsofsharpeyeswerepeeringforwardfromthecrow’snest,anotherpairfromthenoseoftheshiponthefo’c’stlehead,andatleastthreepairsfromthebridgeitself,allstaringintothedimnight,quarteringwithbusyglancestheareaoftheblackseainfrontofthemwheretheforemastanditswireshroudsandstayswereswingingalmostimperceptiblyacrossthestarrysky.
Attwentyminutestotwelvethesilenceofthenightwasbrokenbythreesharpstrokesonthegongsoundingfromthecrow’snestasignalforsomethingrightahead;whilealmostsimultaneouslycameavoicethroughthetelephonefromthelook-outannouncingthepresenceofice.
