I took a bucket from a rack near the mainmast and went along the gangway, as I term the alley betwixt the barricade and the bulwarks. My heart was almost light. The work I was to be put to was just such as I should have chosen out of the whole group of duties of the big ship. It was work that would keep me away from the forecastle hands; it would not put more upon me than my strength was equal to. Best of all, I was to occupy a cabin alone, which was an extraordinary piece of good fortune. It was the first dog-watch. All the convicts were in their prison quarters; a number of sailors were smoking, idling, and talking in the neighbourhood of the galleys; the wind swept keen and hard athwart the forecastle; and the sentry was the only figure that paced that deck. Some rough chaff saluted me as I passed the sailors. One asked if I was going a-milking; another advised me to chuck the bucket overboard and watch it tow. Just as I was stepping up the forecastle ladder, Will, with a pipe in his mouth, put his head out of his berth. He instantly saw me, and called out, with the manner of a young fellow exercising some little authority: ‘Where are you taking that bucket to?’ ‘On to the forecastle for water, sir,’ I answered. ‘Do you know anything about rigging a head pump?’ he exclaimed. ‘Not you!’ he cried, laughing with a fine assumption of half-jocose, half-pitying good nature. ‘Here, I’ll show you what to do.’ He followed me up the ladder. Upon the forecastle the wind was blowing with a great roaring noise. The sentry leaned against it, and his heavily coated figure swayed like a scarecrow in a breezy field as he swung on his gripping feet to the plunge and toss of the bow. The surge, rent by the sheering cutwater, rose in a boiling mass of whiteness to within reach of the rail when the ship pitched. The driven fabric swept the sea from her weather bow in smoke, and at every stately curtsey a vast sheet of foam washed many fathoms ahead. The sea ridged dark and hard. The ship heeled sharply over under great breasts of canvas, and from the forecastle you saw the froth race past her on either hand, and lift astern like a snow-covered path. ‘This was my chance and the first chance, Marian,’ said Will. ‘How are you getting on?’ ‘Well.’ ‘We’ll seem to loiter a bit over this pump. What are they going to do with you?’ I told him. ‘What! Cuddy bottle-washer? And the steward’s the cad of the ship. There are many cads amongst us, but he’s head of the clan here.’ ‘I’m perfectly satisfied, Will. I wish I could see Tom. I want to see him with my own eyes.’ ‘Hold the bucket so,’ said he, ‘and I’ll pump. Oh, never mind the sentry. No notice is taken of soldiers at this end of the ship. I could hug you for your pluck, I could. After all these days of black hole under here to talk to the captain and doctor as I heard you! Where do you sleep?’