All the officers agreed, with the one exception of Wardour, who still kept silence.
“Men of the Wanderer and Sea-mew, your officers agree to cast lots. Do you agree too?”
The men agreed without a dissentient voice. Crayford handed the box and the dice to Captain Helding.
“You throw first, sir. Under six, ‘Stay.’ Over six, ‘Go.’”
Captain Helding cast the dice; the top of the cask serving for a table. He threw seven.
“Go,” said Crayford. “I congratulate you, sir. Now for my own chance.” He cast the dice in his turn. Three! “Stay! Ah, well! well! if I can do my duty, and be of use to others, what does it matter whether I go or stay? Wardour, you are next, in the absence of your first lieutenant.”
Wardour prepared to cast, without shaking the dice.
“Shake the box, man!” cried Crayford. “Give yourself a chance of luck!”
Wardour persisted in letting the dice fall out carelessly, just as they lay in the box.
“Not I!” he muttered to himself. “I’ve done with luck.” Saying those words, he threw down the empty box, and seated himself on the nearest chest, without looking to see how the dice had fallen.