"Wall, you've only three sun-ups to wait, Jack, if you allow that's your high kyard," announced Broncho.
"Mebbe they've got eroded an' won't render, but if it's the blessed moon you've manœuvred up against, I've heard tell that folks that is hoodooed that way, such as lunattics an' paralytic jokers, gets worse at the full moon. Don't you butter your dough too much on that idee," observed Bill wisely.
"The trades are going to leave us," put in the rover abruptly, after a keen look at the sky.
"Goin' to have more calm?" asked Jim anxiously.
"Well, doldrum weather, I expect."
"Ca'm weather kinder palls on one," drawled Broncho disgustedly, "'an it's shore onheathful, an' liable to make a gent feel moody an' bad; but if it's a forced play, we makes it ontil somethin' goes pop."
"Don't you jokers go manufacturin' trouble. Your joints'll tingle just the same when it does come alongside, an' if it do keep below the horizon, you're frettin' your brain-cases 'bout nothin'," said Bill reprovingly.
"'Last Post's' gone; it's about 'Lights Out,'" announced Jack. "Shy us over that almanac before you bed down, Jim. I'll take a star presently."
"I'm going to stand watch with you, Jack," declared Loyola decisively, getting up and seating herself by his side in the sternsheets.
So it was decided that these two should take the first watch, Bill Benson and Tari the middle, and Jack again the morning, as he could not trust either Broncho or Jim sufficiently with the dead reckoning.