Marble and myself now separated, and I went on deck to observe how things promised in that quarter. By this time, the Speedy's top-sails were beginning to dip, and the Dawn was driving forward on her course, with everything drawing that she could carry. All the English were on deck, Sennit included. The last gave me a sufficiently civil salute as I put my foot on the quarter-deck, but I avoided falling into any discourse with him. My cue was to note the men, and to ascertain all I could concerning their distribution during the approaching night. Diggens, I could see, was a red-faced fellow who probably had lost his promotion through love of the bottle, though, as often happens with such persons, a prime seaman and a thorough man-of-war's-man. Of him, I thought I could make sure by means of brandy. Sennit struck me as being a much more difficult subject to get along with. There were signs of cogniac about his face too, but he had more rank, more at stake, and brighter hopes than the master's-mate. Then he was evidently better practised in the ways of the world than his companion, and had constantly a sort of uneasy vigilance about his eye and manner that gave me no little concern. It was my wish to strike a blow, if possible, that very night, every minute carrying us fast towards the chops of the channel, where the English had so many cruisers in general, as to render ultimate escape next to impossible, should we even be so lucky as to regain command of our own ship. I was afraid, moreover, Sennit might take it into his head to have all hands all night, under the pretext of drawing in with the land. Should he actually adopt this course, our case was nearly hopeless. "Your mate seems to love the cupboard, Mr. Wallingford," Sennit remarked to me, in a good-natured manner, with an evident wish to establish still more amicable relations between us than had yet existed; "he has been in and about that galley these ten minutes, fidgeting with his tin-pot, like a raw hand who misses his mother's tea!" Sennit laughed at his own humour, and I could hardly answer with a smile, for I knew my mate had adopted this experiment to open communications with the cook. "Mr. Marble is famous for his love of slops," I answered, evasively. "Well, he does not _look_ it. I have seldom seen a more thorough-looking sea-dog than your mate, Captain Wallingford,"--this was the first time Sennit had dignified me with this title,--"and I took a fancy to him on that account, as soon as I saw him. You will do me the favour to sup with us in the cabin, I hope, for I see signs at the galley that it will soon be ready?" "I shall expect to join your mess, sir, now explanations have passed between us. I suppose _my_ mate is to be one of my party, as well as yours?" "Certainly. I shall ask the favour of you to let Mr. Marble relieve Diggens, for half an hour or so, while the poor fellow gets a bite. We'll do as much for you another time."