"I don't think so. The captain is a long-headed fellow. I guess he knows what he is up to."
"I shall light the candles anyhow. I don't like to lie awake in the dark. Do you?"
"Not much. If I was to be drowned I think I would like it to come off in good daylight."
After a scramble, during which he was pitched three times on the deck, once right on top of the dog, Duncan succeeded in lighting the candles.
These were hung in gimbals, so that the motion of the ship did not affect them.
It was more cheerful now; so, having little desire to go to sleep, knowing that the ship must really be in danger, they lay and talked to each other. Talked of home, of course, but more about the great and wondrous city of London, which, if God spared the ship, they soon should see.
Presently a bigger wave than any that had come before it struck the ship, and seemed to heel her over right on her beam-ends, so that Duncan almost tumbled out of his berth.
A deep silence followed, broken only by the rush of water into the boys' cabin.
Viking sprang right into Conal's berth, and crouched, shaking and quivering in terror, at his feet.
There was half a foot of water on the cabin deck.