BAILEY’S den was a particularly well sheltered recess in the rock, open to no wind, except a sou’-wester. The wind that blew while Bailey and his guests slumbered inside, came from the north-west, and therefore the sleepers knew nothing of it. Out in the sea, indeed, the waters felt its power, and the foaming waves on the following morning told them the story of the night; but during that night they knew nothing at all about it. Far down the side of the cliff, under the rocky precipice, out of the way of the wind, the occupants of Bailey’s den slumbered on the soft spruce brush and softer moss. All night long the fire burned outside, for Bailey had piled up the fuel generously, yet carefully, and had so arranged it, by making alternate layers of green wood and dry, that it would burn all night long, and yet send forth sufficient flame to be visible at sea. Morning came, and the wind and sea had gone down. Upon rising, the denizens of Bailey’s den looked forth upon the water, and saw that it was very much the same as it had been on the preceding day. At this Arthur and Tom shook their heads, but Bailey was sanguine, and spoke encouragingly. “The wind has hauled round a pint or two,” said he, “and I shouldn’t wonder if it was to come round a little more; and if so, it’ll be all right for us. A moderate north or north-east wind’ll be jest the cheese.” They now replenished the fire, after which they sat down to their breakfast. “So you got all this out of the Petrel,” said Bailey. “Well, only think! Why, what gormandizers them captains an mates in the cabin must be--feedin on potted meats! an only think what we eats before the mast! Hard tack, salt junk, an dish-water, that’s what we eats before the mast; but aft, my gentlemen won’t be satisfied with nothin less than Yorkshire game pie, and Oxford sassage--and, what’s this?--Bolony sassage, an all them other condyments what you’ve got done up in them there tin pots. Wall, they’re precious good eatin on a desert island, whatever they be in a ship’s cabin, only they seem most too good for the likes of me.” “You?” said Arthur. “Why, you have a better right to them than we have; for we haven’t any right at all. And, as to the Petrel, if you can manage to save her, I hereby agree to deliver up and surrender to you. all my right, title, and interest in and to any part or portion of the so-called salvage.” “And I too,” said Tom, chiming in with the utmost gravity; “and hereby make known by these presents, to all whom it may concern, and anything to the contrary hereof in any wise notwithstanding.” Bailey was evidently much impressed by these legal formulas. He bowed very gravely. “Your servant, young gents, and my ’umble dooty to both of you; but, at the same time, I don’t want any more’n fair an honest wages, and, if so be as you ain’t in the position to give it, why, well and good, says I; but, if so be as you can, why, I’ll take what’s fair, and right, and lawful, and no more--”