And what were the thoughts of the murderer during that long night, as, hunched up with his back against the bulkhead and one nerveless hand held to the corpse, he crouched awaiting the dawn.
Was he thinking of life or of death, of the future or of the past?
Not he! His brain was vacant and his mind a blank; only his mouth was full, as he chewed steadily all through the long, long night.
Jack curled himself down under the lee of the main fife-rail, and, when the watch changed, returned there, preferring the open sky above him on such a perfect night to the frousy bad air of the foc's'le. Just as he was falling asleep, he noticed the small figure of the kid squeezing itself in behind the pump wheels.
The first hour of the middle watch passed without incident. Black Davis paced moodily to windward on the poop, the helmsman nodded sleepily over the wheel, and the look-out, trusting to luck in not being found out, was taking a nap on the foc's'le head.
Of the whole ship's company, perhaps the ragged urchin time-keeping was the only one thoroughly awake besides the mate.
But two bells had not been struck five minutes before every sleeper was aroused into wakefulness.
Suddenly a long, deep, wailing groan reverberated through the ship.
Dusky forms crouching under the lee of the bulwarks roused themselves, sat up, and looked round inquiringly.