CHAPTER X
Investigations
Accustomed to comparatively short hours of sleep, as are usual afloat, Burgoyne was up and about before the sun rose. In spite of the unusual stability of his hard bed—it was the first night he had slept ashore for nearly four months—his rest was none the less good on that account; but once awake he felt compelled to dress and go out.
"What's up, old man?" inquired a drowsy voice, as Branscombe lifted a tousled head from his pillow—or rather a pile of folded clothes.
"Show a leg and shine, my festive," exclaimed the Third Officer. "Come along, let's see if we can put in a swim before breakfast."
Phil assented, dressed hurriedly, and accompanied Burgoyne into the open air. By that time the sun was just showing above the edge of the cliff. The reek of wood-fires mingled with the soft, cool air. Already in three separate canvas-screened enclosures the cooks of the respective crews were busy. Alwyn wondered whether Miss Vivian was one of the energetic ones.
"Our fair passenger has weathered another day, old thing," remarked Branscombe.
"Yes," agreed Burgoyne. "That's so. Hope we'll be able to work the stunt all right."
"It won't be for want of trying on your part," rejoined Phil. "Miss Vivian told me last night that you nearly jumped down her throat 'cause she'd washed her face."
"Was she angry about it?" demanded Alwyn.