“What on earth is a crab spit?”
Jude raised her face from his shoulder and sat up a bit straighter as though the question had roused her.
“Place where crabs come, hun’erds of millions of them, same as Crab Cay. There’s crabs everywhere of course, but not in shiploads same as Crab Cay. Three men were drifted ashore there once, and after sundown up came the crabs and fought them all night, and there was nothing but their skeletons left in the morning. We’d better take it turn about to keep watch.”
She released herself from his arm and scrambling about in the starlight on her hands and knees began to make a sand pillow.
“There you are!” said she. “Stick your head on it; I’ll take first watch. You be port watch, and I’ll be sta’board.”
“No, you won’t! I will. I’m not a bit sleepy.”
“Neither’m I. Stick your head on it. You’ve gotta turn in or you’ll be no use tomorrow.”
He did as he was bid, and Jude took her place sitting on the sand close to him.
“Give us a call if anything happens,” said he.
“You bet!” replied Jude.