"No; I couldn't sleep, anyway; I might as well be here."
"What was that you took?" Tom asked, as he clambered up into the berth and settled himself comfortably. He, too, could not sleep.
"Same old stuff," said Cattell; "To the day. They're drinking each other's health again."
"I got that a couple of times," said Tom; "what is it, anyway?"
Cattell reached out and pushed the door shut. "Must be pretty chizzly for those fellows up in the crow's-nest," he said.
"Yes; it's queer to hear them calling in the dark, isn't it?"
"You didn't see any lights in the stateroom ports as you came along, did you?" Cattell asked.
"Nope; there's a sailor marching back and forth outside along the starboard tier. Everything's as dark as pitch."
They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the rising wind and to the sound of the spray as it broke over the deck. Cattell folded a despatch blank and stuffed it in the crack of the door to stop its rattling.
"It's comfortable in here, anyway," said Tom; "it's kind of like camping."