He nodded, and we then left the berth. They had trimmed up the cuddy, but the starred and splintered mirrors made a ruin of it. Abram was gone; a number of convicts lounged about the interior. Some seemed to be preparing the cabins; others were seated with their legs hoisted on to the table, others sprawled along the cushioned lockers. Most of them were smoking. A continuous hoarse, sulky growl of conversation, frequently broken by a short, deep laugh, rolled through the cuddy. Tom called out: ‘Do any of you know if they’re preparing a meal for the people?’ ‘Ay,’ answered one of the men, ‘the cooks are at work. Some beef’s been taken out of the cask, and the officer called Bates has sarved out tea and sugar--the reg’lar muck-mess, pal.’ ‘Where are we to eat?’ exclaimed a heavy-faced, coarse-voiced man, who sat smoking in a lounge-chair near the mizzen-mast. ‘The chief’ll settle that,’ answered Tom. ‘There’s the whole of the ship for a dinner-table.’ We walked to the galley. The destruction of the barricades had vastly improved the look of the vessel. The decks ran in a clear sweep. Some of the men had scrubbed at the stain where the quarter-deck sentry fell, but the dye was still red in the plank. The mass of the convicts aimlessly hung about in groups. Numbers overhung the rail, staring out to sea and talking. Others crouched in clusters under the bulwarks; some had half stripped themselves. Many were on the poop, where I caught sight of Mr. Bates walking with Will. I called Tom’s attention to the general air of listlessness. He answered: ‘It’s partly heat, partly reaction. They’ve woke up to the sense of what’s happened, and the loneliness of the sea is upon them, though they couldn’t give you a name for their sensations.’ This brought us to the ship’s galley. The convicts had partly demolished their own kitchen, yet, of the two, it had been more serviceably furnished for so great a crowd as the ship contained. The sun was now hanging low over the western ocean. I never before beheld it so vast and so red. Its wake came straight to the side of the ship from the edge of the sea. I saw no cloud, yet a soft, gentle wind blew; all the water was dark with it, and it tenderly swelled the ship’s canvas. All plain sail was set, saving the main-royal, where the lightning had left no mast to hoist the yard on. These observations I made quickly whilst Tom put his head into the galley-door and talked to the people within.