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There was a peculiar stillness about the atmosphere—the calm that usually precedes a storm. All day long the clouds hung suspended overhead, and towards the middle of the afternoon it grew much darker. People residing at harbour suburbs hurried home as fast as possible, and were glad when they were ferried safely across the water.

The Watson’s Bay ferry-boat was throwing off from the landing-stage as a well-built man in a pilot’s coat jumped on board.

‘Nearly missed it, Wal,’ said the skipper of the Fairy. ‘The next boat will have a rough passage, I reckon.’

‘Yes; it’s been brewing all day,’ replied Walter Jessop. ‘We shall have a terrible night, I fear. It will be dangerous near the coast to-night. Luckily, there’s no vessel been sighted anywhere handy.’

The speaker was evidently a seaman. He had an honest, open face, weather-beaten and tanned with exposure, and his hands were hard and big and used to hard work.

Pilot Jessop was well known in Sydney. In years gone by he had done good service as a pilot, and he still followed his calling, but fortune had favoured him in the shape of a windfall from a rich relation, and he only took on work when he felt inclined.