When I next awoke I found my cot violently swinging. I thought for the moment that we were under way and in a heavy sea; but on looking over I saw Mr. Duckling, who exclaimed, "Out with you, Mr. Royle! There's a good breeze from the east'ards. Look alive and call the boatswain to pipe all hands." Hearing this, I was wide awake at once, and in a few minutes was making my way to the boatswain's cabin, a deck-house on the port side against the forecastle. He and the carpenter were fast asleep in bunks placed one over the other. I laid hold of the boatswain's leg, which hung over the bunk--both he and the carpenter had turned in "all standing," as they say at sea--and shook it. His great brown hairy face came out of the bolster in which it was buried; he then threw over his other leg and sat upright. "All hands, sir?" "Yes; look sharp, bo'sun." He was about to speak, but stopped short and said, "Ay, ay, sir;" whereupon I hurried aft. It was twenty minutes past five by the clock in the cuddy. The sun had been risen half an hour, and was already warming the decks. But there was a fine breeze--not from the eastward, as Duckling had said, but well to the northward of east--which brought ripe, fresh morning smells from the land with it, and made the water run in little leaps of foam against the ship's side. Captain Coxon and the pilot were both on the poop, and as I came up the former called out-- "Is the boatswain awake yet?" "Yes, sir," I answered, and dived into my cabin to finish dressing. I heard the boatswain's pipe sound, followed by the roar of his voice summoning the hands to weigh anchor. My station was on the forecastle, and thither I went. But none of the hands had emerged as yet, the only man seen being the fellow on the look-out. All about us the outward-bound vessels were taking advantage of the wind: some of them were already standing away, others were sheeting home their canvas; the clanking of the windlasses was incessant, and several Deal boats were driving under their lugs among the shipping. "Mr. Royle," cried out the captain, "jump below, will you, and see what those fellows are about." I went to the fore-scuttle and peered into it, bawling, "Below there!" "There's no use singing out," said a voice; "we don't mean to get the ship under way until you give us something fit to eat." "Who was that who spoke?" I called. "Show yourself, my man." A fellow came and stood under the fore-scuttle, and looking up, said in a bold, defiant way-- "_I_ spoke--'Bill Marling, able seaman.'" "Am I to tell the captain that you refuse to turn to?"