Toole fetched a small tarpaulin, and hid the bodies. 'How's the Dutchman getting on, I wonder?' said the boatswain. He went to the open skylight, and looked down. He saw the figure of Mr. Vanderholt lying stiff in death on a sofa locker; his daughter sat beside him, inclined forwards, resting her chin on her hands, herself, whilst the boatswain watched, as stirless as the dead. The seaman stepped back, and walked forward slowly. The sailors, Scott excepted, were gathered about the deck-house door, holding a council upon their condition and prospects. There was the hurry of nerve in their speech, and again one or another would look ahead, or on either bow. The boatswain, shoving in amongst them, said in his deep voice: 'I'm for getting something to eat. I want my dinner.' 'And I'm for getting something to drink,' said Toole. The boatswain picked up Mr. Vanderholt's revolver, and, whilst he examined it, before pocketing it, he said: 'There's no chance of my bossing you, lads. I'll never do more than advise you. But let me give you this counsel: of course there'll be drink for the cabin somewhere aft. We're entitled to our allowance of rum, anyhow, and if we add a bottle or two of the cabin stuff to that allowance, who's a-going to miss it? That's not counsel, you say--no, but _this_ is: don't none of you go and get drunk. I vow to God the first man that falls insensible I'll chuck overboard. We're murderers and pirates--d'ye know that?' he roared, with a ferocious look at the men--a look that might have convinced shrewder perceptions than those about him that he was going mad--'and we're to take care, if we don't want to swing, that we're not found out. Can ye guess what swinging's like? Many's the time I've thought of it--of the gray, wet morning, and their coming in to fetch you to be hanged, and their making your arms fast astern, with a parson walking in front reading about death; then the standing upon the trap-door, and the crowds of faces--my God!--all looking at you, and, worst of all, the awful feeling that a man must have when the cap's drawed down, and he stands awaiting!' 'There's no call to keep on, Jim,' said Dabb; 'we don't want to be hanged, and we don't mean to do it. And who's a-going to fall down dead drunk, and act the beast, as you says, a-seeing how it stands with us?' 'Let's get something to eat,' said the boatswain. 'Jim,' said he, turning to Gordon, 'you know the ropes aft. Bring something for'ard from the Dutchman's pantry fit for the men to sit down to.' 'Am I to bring any drink?' says Gordon. 'What have they got down there?' asked Maul. 'There's some cases of bottled ale.' 'Bring eight bottles for'ards,' said the boatswain. 'Joe, go you along and lend him a hand.'