The three men went up through the hatch, leaving Will standing alone under it. I now distinctly heard the sound of many voices; most of the newly-arrived crew seemed intoxicated if I might judge from their tipsy laughter and maudlin songs and calls. A light was handed down; Will screened the lantern by setting it beside a cask; he then came over to me. I lifted my head. ‘There you are,’ said he softly. ‘How are you getting on, old girl?’ ‘Very well, Will. I have slept right through the night, and very comfortably. Give me all the news.’ ‘You may hear it,’ said he, laughing. ‘The crew are aboard, drunk as casks. A sweet and noble lot of hearts. You never saw such a crew. The most ruffian-looking convicts are gentlemen beside some of them. The crimp who brought them down fished every gutter ’twixt Houndsditch and Limehouse Hole, and rejected half he hooked as not bad enough.’ ‘Then we’re off Gravesend?’ ‘Ay.’ ‘When do we start?’ ‘The tug will be catching hold of us before dark. Any rats here, Marian?’ ‘None, so far. Have you seen anything of Tom, dear?’ ‘Nothing.’ He stepped to the lantern and held it to my face to look at me. ‘It’s a good job,’ said he, ‘that you’ve got no hair to dress. But how jolly bright your eyes are! Perhaps I may have you out of this sooner than you expect. Pray for a fresh north-easter, Marian.’ ‘Take your light away and count your buckets. Somebody may come below.’ ‘I’m not going to count any buckets,’ said he. ‘I invented that yarn as an excuse to see you.’ He carried the lantern to where my provisions lay, and was looking at them and softly speaking, when a man fell right through the hatch. He fell with a mighty thud, and I screamed out. You would have supposed him killed or stunned, but he had not lain quiet one or two minutes, not long enough indeed for Will to get to him, when he began to laugh and mutter drunkenly. He then sat up, and, looking about him, exclaimed: ‘Rum casks, be gob! Whist, ye drunken teef, and they’ll lock ye up down here!’ So saying, he got upon all-fours and crawled toward the casks stowed in the left wing of this store-room. ‘What are you doing here?’ cried Will, stepping up to him. ‘Is it you, honey? Bedad, then, that makes two. Quick, sweetheart, with your gimlet and pannikin, for supposin’ it should be threacle!’ said the man, sinking into a sitting posture. My terror was extreme. I feared that others of the drunken crew would follow this fellow and come tumbling down after him to rummage for drink, and discover me before enough sober men could be got together to turn them out. ‘Now, up you go!’ cried Will. ‘Out you get!’ And he put his lantern down to lay hold of the man. ‘Why, what divvle are you?’ answered the brute, in a voice suddenly savage and dangerous as the growl of a fierce dog. ‘What’s this?’ he roared. ‘A stowaway? Hooroo! A stowaway, bullies! Hooroo!’ and, staggering on to his legs, he lurched towards the lad, with his fist raised.