Dan paused with hands behind his back, watching the work curiously.
“You had better get ready,” suggested a tar. “The thing comes off sharp at seven bells.”
“I have nothing to get ready.”
“You want to put on your fighting togs, don’t you?”
“What fighting togs?”
“Your trunks.”
“No. I’ll box as I am. I don’t have to go in like a professional pugilist.”
“You’ll be at a disadvantage, then.”
“That will be my lookout, thank you.”
Upon glancing about the lad observed that there were no officers in sight. There was a reason for that, though he did not know it. The officers had been fully informed of what was to take place that evening, and hence discreetly kept away from the forecastle. However, there was, unknown to the others, a commissioned officer standing behind the weather cloth on the navigator’s bridge.