"Between nine and ten," he answered. "A slice of moon. We can do without her. There is light in starshine, and we can do without that also. I must light the binnacle lamp and get the side-lights over. I thank God that this wind promises steadiness. Yet it may shift, and then I shall want the dog to awake you whilst I see what a single pair of arms can do with the braces."
"Do you think I shall not hear you if you shout?" said she.
"I'll not chance it," he answered.
"Do you believe we shall carry this ship home?" she asked.
"I'll not hope, for hoping is bragging, but we'll try, Julia. A man cannot add a cubit to his mother's gift of stature by standing on stilts; but we'll try, Julia."
"Who can do more?" she asked.
"Hold this wheel while I light the lamps."
He set about this job and speedily despatched it, knowing exactly where to lay his hands upon everything he wanted, then brought his mattress up along with the rug and jammed it into his hen-coop, and lay down. It was rather a tight fit with the mattress, but it gave him the length he wanted, and if he did not start in his sleep he need not knock his head against the ceiling. He carefully secured the hen-coop to belaying pins.
"That'll provide," said he, "against being taken aback."