As he expected, there was a complete sleeping chorus below; the deep satisfied snoring of half-a-dozen seamen, who, regardless of the tide and their captain’s feelings, were slumbering sweetly, in blissful ignorance of all that the _Lancet_ might say upon the twin subjects of overcrowding and ventilation. “Below there, you lazy thieves!” roared the captain; “tumble up, tumble up!” The snores stopped. “Ay, ay!” said a sleepy voice. “What’s the matter, master?” “Matter!” repeated the other, choking violently. “Ain’t you going to sail to-night?” “To-night!” said another voice, in surprise. “Why, I thought we wasn’t going to sail till Wen’sday.” Not trusting himself to reply, so careful was he of the morals of his men, the skipper went and leaned over the side and communed with the silent water. In an incredibly short space of time five or six dusky figures pattered up on to the deck, and a minute or two later the harsh clank of the windlass echoed far and wide. The captain took the wheel. A fat and very sleepy seaman put up the side-lights, and the little schooner, detaching itself by the aid of boat-hooks and fenders from the neighbouring craft, moved slowly down with the tide. The men, in response to the captain’s fervent orders, climbed aloft, and sail after sail was spread to the gentle breeze. “Hi! you there,” cried the captain to one of the men who stood near him, coiling up some loose line. “Sir?” said the man. “Where is the mate?” inquired the captain. “Man with red whiskers and pimply nose?” said the man interrogatively. “That’s him to a hair,” answered the other. “Ain’t seen him since he took me on at eleven,” said the man. “How many new hands are there?” “I b’leeve we’re all fresh,” was the reply. “I don’t believe some of ’em have ever smelt salt water afore.” “The mate’s been at it again,” said the captain warmly, “that’s what he has. He’s done it afore and got left behind. Them what can’t stand drink, my man, shouldn’t take it, remember that.” “He said we wasn’t going to sail till Wen’sday,” remarked the man, who found the captain’s attitude rather trying. “He’ll get sacked, that’s what he’ll get,” said the captain warmly. “I shall report him as soon as I get ashore.” The subject exhausted, the seaman returned to his work, and the captain continued steering in moody silence. Slowly, slowly darkness gave way to light. The different portions of the craft, instead of all being blurred into one, took upon themselves shape, and stood out wet and distinct in the cold grey of the breaking day. But the lighter it became, the harder the skipper stared and rubbed his eyes, and looked from the deck to the flat marshy shore, and from the shore back to the deck again. “Here, come here,” he cried, beckoning to one of the crew. “Yessir,” said the man, advancing.