"Then get into your bunk and wait for this to blow over. If there is any real need of us, Denman will call us out."
This was good sailorly logic, and they climbed back into their bunks, to smoke, to read, or to talk themselves to sleep again. As the wind and sea arose they closed the other two deadlights, and when darkness closed down they turned out the dazzling bulbs, and slept through the night as only sailors can.
Just before daylight Jenkins lifted his big bulk out of the bunk, and, taking a key from his pocket, unlocked the forecastle door. He stepped into the passage, and found the hatch loose on the coamings, then came back and quietly wakened them all.
"I found this key on the deck near the door first day aboard," he volunteered; "but put it in my pocket instead of the door."
They softly crept out into the passage and lifted the hatch; but it was the irrepressible and most certainly courageous Forsythe who was first to climb up. He reached the deck just in time to dodge into the darkness behind the bridge ladder at the sight of Denman coming forward to attend to the lamps; and it was he who sent both fists into the side of Denman's face with force enough to knock him senseless. Then came the others.
CHAPTER XVIII
"That'll do, Forsythe," said Sampson, interrupting the flow of billingsgate. "We'll omit prayers and flowers at this funeral. Stand up."
Forsythe arose, waving two bunches of keys and Denman's revolver.
"Got him foul," he yelled, excitedly. "All the keys and his gun."
"All right. Just hand that gun to me—what! You won't?"