He sighed heavily, and leant over the rail.
A side boy approached with a mug of steaming cocoa, his bare feet making scarcely any sound on the wooden deck.
‘Will you ’ave this now, sir?’ he queried.
‘Yes, please, put it on the table.’
He moved across the quarter-deck to the table where lay the log and signal pads, and gazed heavily at the dark blurs of the anchored Fleet. The Corporal and Quartermaster of the Watch were talking in undertones by the gangway. Then five bells struck, and the sound was echoed from the neighbouring ships and died away in the distance.
The ship swung to the turn of the tide, and he went up to the bridge and checked the position by shore-bearings, keeping a good eye on the other vessels to see that they would swing clear. Up here a sleepy-eyed signalman and two signal-boys were passing the time by restoring flags to the lockers, and the night seemed very still and quiet.
Then a visit forward to the anchor watch and back to the quarter-deck again, to continue the slow pacing up and down to keep the cold out. He glanced at his watch and yawned. Nearly three o’clock. Only another hour of it. Up and down the quarter-deck, up and down ... with the knowledge that at any rate aboard each of the darkened and silent vessels around him a comrade in distress was performing the same penance....
A pattering of bare feet from the direction of the bridge, and a signal-boy appeared, breathless.
‘Red light showing from the Flagship, sir,’ he reported.
Instantly the Lieutenant’s manner changed. The regrets of yesterday had vanished. No need for quiet now.