"Eleven's too early," said Simons; "it's getting on for ten already. I'm for a spell before we start; there's nothing like a spell to steady your nerve."
"I'd make it eight bells—if not seven," argued the Bo's'n. "The moon'll be up directly. The lower she is when we start, the better for us. You said the station lay due east, didn't you, Bill? Then it'll be easy steering with a low moon."
The other two laughed.
"These 'ere sailors," said Bill, "they're a blessed treat. Always in such an almighty funk of getting bushed. I've known dozens, and they're all alike."
"There's no fun in it," said the Bo's'n. "Look at this poor devil."
Engelhardt held his breath.
"I suppose he is corpsed?" said Bill.
"Dead as junk."
"Well, he's saved us the trouble. I'd have stuck the beggar as soon as I'd stick a sheep. There's only one more point, lads. Do we knock up her ladyship, and make her let us into the store——"
"Lug her out by her hair," suggested Simons. "I'll do that part."