I cursed them mentally and returned an uninviting grunt.
“Hello.”
“Counting the submarines?”
Four figures loomed at the foot of my chair.
“Some games running up there! Four tables. Better take a hand.”
Farther up the line of chairs, a child, awakened by their coming, began to cry.
“Not to-night. And say, if you want to make a night of it, you fellows, tramp the upper deck. People want to sleep down here.”
“Yes, Captain,” said a laughing voice; but another said, “Shut up, Limpy. The women are round here. Come on: clear out.”
The sound of their heavy tramp died out in the distance. A woman behind me sat up, rearranged her pillow, and settled back. The child whimpered sleepily and then grew quiet. In the distance some one began to snore. The ship had begun a slight roll, as it fled, ghostlike in a ghostly night, followed by noises of unseen things; the hiss of hidden waves, a sudden leap of spray, the creak of pulleys, a stifled whistle, and the rumble of the invisible force that thrust it forward.