I found the fo’k’stle awash, chests and bags lashed into lower bunks, and the greater part of both watches sitting on the upper ones, smoking, and eyeing the cold sparking water as it rushed to and fro their habitation. My arrival, or rather, perhaps, my cargo, was hailed with acclamation. The captain certainly had sent them a couple of dozen of porter. But, as one explained,— ‘What’s the good of sich rubbishin’ swankey as that when a feller wants somethin’ as ’ll warm ’is innards this weather?’ ‘Where’s Ashby?’ I asked, hoisting on to a bunk amongst the crowd. ‘Here I am, sir,’ replied a voice close to in the dimness. ‘Well,’ I said, cheerily, ‘what did I tell you? Here’s Christmas Day well on for through, everything snug—if damp—and nothing happening. Give him a stiff nip, one of you, and let us drink to better times, and no more nonsense. Once we’re round the corner, yonder, this trip will soon be over.’ ‘Thank you kindly, sir,’ replied Ashby, as he emptied the pannikin, which was being so carefully passed around by the one appointed, who, holding on like grim death, after every poured-out portion, held the bottle up to the light to see how the contents were faring. ‘Thank you kindly, sir,’ said he. ‘But Christmas Day isn’t done yet.’ Even as he spoke, a form clad in glistening oilskins came through the water-curtain that was roaring over the break of the fo’k’stle, and, leaning upon the windlass, sang out,— ‘You there, Ashby?’ ‘Ay, ay, sir,’ replied the seaman. ‘Lie out, then,’ continued the mate, for he it was, ‘and put another gasket around that inner jib! It’s coming adrift! Bear a hand, now!’ The ship for a minute seemed to stand quite still, as if waiting to hear the answer, and each man turned to look at his neighbour. Then Ashby, jumping down, with a curious set expression on his face, walked up to the mate and said very loud,— ‘Don’t send a man where you’d be frightened to go yourself.’ ‘You infernal soger!’ shouted the other, enraged beyond measure at this first sign of rebellion in his victim. ‘Come out here and I’ll show you all about that! Come out and crawl after me, and I’ll learn you how to do your work!’ He disappeared, and Ashby followed him like a flash. In a trice every soul was outside—some clinging to the running gear around the foremast, others on the galley, others in the fore rigging. I could see no sign of any of the head sails being adrift. All, except the set fore-topmast stay-sail, lay on their booms, masses of sodden canvas, off which poured green cataracts as the _Dido_ lifted her nose from a mighty plunge. For a minute or two, so dense was the smother for’ard of the windlass bits, that nothing was visible but foam. But, presently, as the _Dido_ paused, weaving her head backwards and forwards as if choosing a good spot for her next dive, we saw, clear of everything, and high in air fronting us, the two men.