It was well after midnight ere the fire had burnt itself low, and the glowing embers played on the faces of men who were too tired even to join in a chorus.
"My lads," exclaimed Captain Jeremy, "'tis too late to return on board. Make yourselves as comfortable as you can here, and report yourselves to me to-morrow at eight bells."
"Three cheers for Captain Miles!" shouted a hoarse voice, and the men, having expended their last remaining energy in paying this tribute to their popular chief, trooped off to rest in the barrack-like shelters that had been erected for the comfort of the little garrison.
When all was quiet, Captain Jeremy, 'Enery, Silas Touchstone, and I walked down to the beach, followed by the boat's crew, and were rowed off to the Golden Hope.
"Turn in now, Master Clifford," said Captain Jeremy, as we gained the deck; "you must be tired out with the day's excitement and the night's revelry."
He had donned his thick peajacket, so I knew that, though he had not slumbered on the previous night, he meant to keep on deck. Something was in the wind.
Tired as I was, I could not sleep. For hours I lay awake, listening to the dull roar of the breakers on the reef and the periodical notes of the ship's bell, which, with faithful precision, were repeated on board the Neptune; while, borne on the soft air, as the land breeze blew across the bay, I could distinguish the "All's well" of the men on guard at the stockade.
Overhead I could hear a measured tramp, as the two captains paced the deck, for they had left the quarter-deck and were patrolling the poop, talking in earnest tones, though their words were inaudible.
Six bells! Would sleep never come? I sprang out of my bunk, and walking over to one of the open stern ports, I leant out.
Grey dawn was beginning to glimmer in the east, and with it came the moaning of a rising wind. Barely distinguishable against the pale night mists, I could see the outlines of the Neptune. Did my eyes deceive me? Her sails had been shaken loose and were being sheeted home.