About two bells in the first watch, Talbot came below, and supper was ordered.
His face was radiant, but shining with wet. The steward, however, assisted him out of his oil-skins and sou'wester, then, having wiped his face with his pocket-handkerchief, he sat down.
"Well," said Duncan, "Frank and I are waiting to hear the verdict."
"Why, it is this," said the skipper. "The barque is a duck, and well deserves the name of Flora M'Vayne. I don't believe a hurricane could hurt her, and she'll chuck the small icebergs on one side of her as I should chuck a cricket-ball. And ain't I hungry just. Sit in, boys. It's all night in with you lads, isn't it?"
"Not quite," said Duncan. "I kept the last dog-watch, and don't go on again till four."
Viking got up and seated himself by his well-beloved master's side.
He licked Duncan's hand, as much as to say, "When you go on deck so shall I."
But his master seemed to divine his thoughts.
"No, my good dog," he said, "you must stay below to-night, else the seas would sweep you off, and what should I do then?"
After supper Frank got out his fiddle and played for fully half an hour, then he and Duncan, who both occupied the same state-room, retired.