And the doubters were silenced for the hour.
The hymn-singer endeavored to raise a chorus. He was not greeted with enthusiasm, but a few valiant spirits came to his assistance. A couple of hymns were feebly rendered—and again—silence.
"Say when," observed Pyne calmly when he entered the service-room to find Brand trimming the spare lamp.
"Not tonight," said Brand.
"Why not? Hell may break loose at any moment downstairs."
"What has occurred? I heard something of a dispute when the watch mustered at eight o'clock."
"Things are worse now. One of the men found a gallon of methylated spirit in the work-shop."
"Good Heavens! Did he drink any of it?"
"He and his mates have emptied the tin. Eight are helplessly drunk—the others quarrelsome. The next thing will be a combined rush for the store-room."
"But why did not the second officer tell me?"