They had gone to dinner, but were so quiet that the vessel seemed deserted, and nothing was audible but the clank of the tiller-chains and the rattling of the sails against the masts. Stevens was forward, apparently having his dinner with the men. In glancing through the skylight, I saw Mary Robertson looking up at me. I leaned forward, so that my face was concealed from the man at the wheel--the only person on deck besides myself--and whispered-- "Keep up your courage, and be ready to act as I may direct." "I am quite ready," she answered. "Remain in your cabin," I said, "and don't let the men see you;" for it had flashed upon me that if the crew saw her they might force her to go along with them in the boats. "I wanted a little brandy for papa," she answered. "He is very poorly and weak, and rambles terribly in his talk." She turned to hide her tears from me, and prevent me witnessing her struggles to restrain them. She would feel their impotence, the mockery of them at such a time; besides, dear heart, she would think I should distrust her courage if she let me see her weep. The steward came forward under the skylight as she entered her cabin, and said-- "I will fight for my life, sir." "That is my advice to you." "I will do my best. I have been thinking of my wife and child, sir." "Hush!" I cried. "Not so loud. If your courage fails you, there is a girl in that cabin there, who will show you how to be brave. Remember two things--act quickly and strike hard; and for God's sake don't fall to drinking to pull up your nerves. If I find you drunk I will call upon the men to drown you." And with this injunction I left the skylight. The men remained a great while in the forecastle, all so quiet that I wondered whether some among them were even now below scuttling the ship. But they would hardly act so prematurely. To be sure, it would take a long time for the ship to fill, bored even in half a dozen places by an auger; but until the evening fell, and they were actually in the boats, they could not be sure that a wind would not spring up to oblige them to keep to the ship. I remained on deck, never thinking of dinner, watching the weather anxiously. An ordinary seaman came aft to relieve the wheel; but finding that the ship had no steerage way on her, he squatted himself on the taffrail, pulled out a pipe and began to smoke. I took no notice of him. Shortly afterwards Stevens came along the main-deck and mounted the poop. "A dead calm," said he, after sweeping the horizon with his hand over his eyes, "and blessedly hot." "Is the ship to be left all standing?" I inquired. "What do you think?" he replied, with an air of indifference, casting his eyes aloft. "I should snug her, certainly." "Why?" he demanded, folding his arms, and staring at me as he leaned against the poop-rail.