They had been especially terrified by the loud rattling of some sails that had carried away while the gale was still at hurricane force.
“What! not in bed yet, lads?”
“No,” said Charlie. “Fact is, sir, I’d rather be drowned with my clothes on, and Walt here thinks the same.”
Mayne Brace laughed.
“I can’t blame you, though. I was once young myself. But bustle now, boys; find your way into the pantry, switch on the light, and see what you can find to eat.”
This was very cheering language, not only because they knew that the captain would not think of having supper, if he thought the ship was going down an hour or so after, but because they themselves were hungry enough to swallow an octopus.
An exciting night of storm has always that effect on the seafarer.
Charlie with the cold beef, Walter with sardines, onions, bread, and butter, soon staggered out of the pantry again, and as speedily returned for knives and forks, and plates, and cruets, and dainty sauces.
There was hot coffee in an urn over the stove, and preserved meat; and what a glorious supper they did make to be sure! You would not have said that there was a deal of funk about those boys’ hearts had you seen them ply their knives and forks. But the funniest thing about the matter was this—hardly had they got settled down to serious eating before a state-room door opened, and lo! behold Ingomar in the robes of night (pyjamas) standing swaying and smiling, and holding fast to the bulkhead.
“I’ll join you, if you please,” said Ingomar.