A brawny stoker rose for a breath of air like some giant seal, and, in deference to the officer, took his stand on the other side of the bridge. He was followed by the signalman, and the two men lit their pipes and conversed in low tones. Not much room up here for four men; the little bridge was crowded now. When they had gone down, Boyd rang the bell again and muttered the magic words, ‘food and cocoa,’ to the face that appeared in the circle of light below, and presently a hand shot up out of the hatch bearing a steaming mug which he hastily relieved of its burden. The hand disappeared and returned with a biscuit-tin, and finally vanished altogether. The dawn was now paling the eastern sky, and the wedge of fore-deck began to take shape and harden as the light gained strength. The faint glow in the compass died out, and the coast ahead became visible: a distant, mountainous country, looking menacing in the struggling dawn. The navigator pulled out his watch. ‘Five o’clock,’ he muttered. ‘Better get a star sight before diving.’ Telling the helmsman to ring the bell if he saw anything, he went below into the control room, where the thump and bang of the engines smothered all other sounds, and through into the fore compartment, treading lightly and dodging under the hammocks and over the sleeping men stretched out on the deck. Passing through the long green curtains, he stepped into that space dignified by the high-sounding name of ‘Ward Room,’ where Seagrave and Raymond were sleeping, and culling from a drawer his sextant and a watch, returned on deck. By the time he had taken his sights the dawn was well advanced, and after a careful look round the horizon he once more rang the bell. ‘Call the captain and tell him it’s five-fifteen, please.’ ‘Ay, ay, sir.’ Presently Raymond came up and took a long look at the distant coast. ‘Well, young feller,’ he said, lowering his glasses, ‘seen anything?’ ‘Not so as you’d notice it,’ replied Boyd. ‘That light only showed up for five minutes or so. I got some sights by the way, as the land’s too far off for decent bearings.’ ‘What you’ll suffer from, my lad,’ said Raymond with a grin, ‘is sextantitis if you carry on as you’re doing now. It’s a very common complaint among R.N.R. Lieutenants, and comes from the constant habit of taking sights. The patient rises at one in the morning and tries to find his latitude with a hambone and a piece of string.’ ‘Better to be sure than sorry, anyway,’ answered Boyd. ‘Well, you brought it on yourself. If you only knew what an effort it costs me to be funny at this hour in the morning you wouldn’t ask for it. I tell you it completely defeats me. When we get back I shall have to take a course of something, or drink unpleasant mixtures out of green bottles.’ ‘If it’s whisky you mean I can quite believe you,’ returned Boyd, with his legs down the hatch. ‘Well, so she goes. Course fifty-six. Fine weather and no fish.’