At four o'clock or so in the morning the cook stuck his head out of the slit in the forec's'le companionway and spoke his welcome little piece. "Can't have any reg'lar sit-down this morning, boys. Have to leave the china in the becket for a while yet, but all that wants can make a mug-up, and when we get inside--if we do in anything like a decent hour--we'll have breakfast." At five o'clock the sky began to brighten to the eastward, but there was no let-up to the wind or sea. If anything it was breezing up. At six o'clock, when the short blasts of the lightship split the air abreast of us, things were good and lively, but there was no daylight to go by then. The wash that in the night only buried her bow good was then coming over her to the foremast and filling the gangway between the house and rail as it raced aft. The beauty of double-lashing the dories began to appear, and all hands might have been towing astern all night by the look of them. But the Johnnie Duncan was doing well and the opinion of the crew generally was that the skipper could slap every rag to her and she'd carry it--that is, if she had to. The skipper put her more westerly after we had passed the lightship and on we went. We had the company of a couple of coasters in this part of the drive; and by that, if nothing else, a man might know we were inshore. Some Gloucester men were in sight, too, though most of the fleet, we guessed, were still outside of us. The coasters were colliers, three-masters both, and reefed down, wallowing in the sea. One had her foretopmast snapped short off, and such patched sails as she had on looked lonesome. The gang, of course, had to make fun of her. "There's one way to house a topm'st!" "Broke your clothes-pole, old girl!" "Better take in your washing there--looks like rain!" "Go it, you beauty! I only wish I had my cameraw. If y'only suspected how lovely you look!" Two big ocean tugs, one clear white and one all black, offered a change in looks, though in nothing else, for each one, with two barges of coal, was making desperate hauling of it, and the Breakwater yet a good bit away. "Hustle 'em, you husky coal-jammers!" roared Parsons at them, as if he could be heard beyond the rail. "I wouldn't be aboard of you for my share of the Southern trip--and mackerel away up in G, too. Would you, Billie?" "Then? Naw!" said Hurd, with a wrinkling of his little nose. "No, nor me neither," said Long Steve. "Hi--ever hear the cook--ever hear George Moore's song:-- 'If ever you go to sea, my boy, Don't ever you ship on a steamer; There's stacks to scrape and rails to paint-- It's always work to clean her. When the wind is wrong and the shore is by, They'll keep you clear of leeway, But they roll and they jolt and they're never dry-- They're the devil's own in a sea-way!'"