“No, master.”
“Where’s Galloon?”
“Along with the captain, master.”
“Has the dog been fed to-day?”
“Oh, yes. He had a copper-fastened buster at noon—a heart o’ oak blow-out.”
“What did you give him?” said I, not doubting the lad’s affection for the dog, but fearing that the poor brute might have been overlooked in the hurry and excitement of the day.
“As much beefsteak as he could swallow, master.”
“There are no beefsteaks on board this ship,” said I. “If the captain and Galloon were here we should have a concert. But I believe you when you tell me you have fed the dog.”
“More’n he wanted, master.”
I bade him put a spare mattress into my bunk—we carried a stock of spare bedding, a slop lot of Amsterdam stuff—and I then returned on deck. Two hours of watch lay before me, and my heart went in a gallop and my brain in a waltz through the earlier part of that time. I found leisure for thought now; the hush of the ocean night was upon the brig; no sound reached me from the forecastle. The stars shone brightly in the dark sky, and many meteors of crystal white fires ran and broke over our mastheads, bursting like rockets immeasurably distant, and leaving glowing trails, which palpitated for some minutes.