‘She don’t want no comfort,’ he answered coarsely; ‘she’s all right. The number of paces the capt’n talked of may come to ye by daybreak, and we’re all at hand to tarn to.’ I made no answer. The night came down dark and clear, with a noise of rippling waters in the quiet steady wind. The barque faded into a phantasm, and inland it was all black as ink, with the stars which rimmed the outline of the central rise winking there like sentinel beacons burning upon some giant mountain leagues distant. But where the boat lay the space of coral grit showed pallid, of the hue of ordinary soil bathed in moonlight, and the figure of the little fabric, with her nose pointing at the tree to which the rope that secured her was fastened, blended shadowily with the darkling surface of the water of the lagoon, over whose tiny ripples the clear reflection of the larger stars were riding. The men roamed about in twos and threes, but never very far. I believed I could trace an uneasiness in their behaviour, as though they had consented to sleep out of the ship in obedience only to the carpenter’s wishes, and were now reconsidering their acquiescence with some indecision of mind. I earnestly hoped that this might not prove so, and watched and listened to them with my heart full of wretchedness. The carpenter was seated with another man, and conversed with him in low notes, which trembled to my ears like the subdued growling of a dog. I strolled away to a distance, but was neither followed nor called to. The time passed very slowly. The men grew weary of moving about, though for some while the mere sensation of the hard soil was a delight to them, now that the air was deliciously cool and they had no work to do and could roam at will. They came in a body together and seated themselves round about the carpenter and his companion, drinking by the starlight, with the frequent glare of the lighting of pipes throwing out the adjacent faces, till it was like looking into a camera obscura. They talked much, but my attentive ear detected a drowsy note stealing into the sound of grumbling that stood for their conversation. It was drawing on to the half-hour past ten when I stepped leisurely up to the huddle of shadows, and looking over them as they lay in all sorts of postures, I exclaimed: ‘Which is the carpenter?’ ‘Here he is,’ answered the voice of Lush. ‘Are the men going to make a bedroom of this spot?’ said I. ‘Ay,’ he answered. ‘Where else? Ye han’t surely come across a hotel in your lonely rambles?’ These words he pronounced without intending offence, though such was the coarseness of the ruffian that he could say little which was not offensive. One or two of the fellows laughed. ‘I shall look out for comfortable quarters for myself,’ said I. ‘I have no fancy for lying amidst all this high grass. There may be snakes about.’ ‘No, no!’ exclaimed one of the men; ‘there’s no snakes here, sir. I’ve kept a bright lookout. There’s nothen to be afeerd of.’