She heard command in his voice, and answered, "I should love to lie in your hen-coop."
"Take off your hat and get into it. 'Tis snug enough. Pull the jacket over you, and sleep—sleep—sleep; and then you will be able to thank Mary Queen who sent the sleep that slid into your soul. But first go below and get a little wine and food."
She was as obedient as a good sailor, refreshed herself in the cabin where the lamp was burning, and returned with a glass of rum and water and a biscuit.
"And my pipe," said he. And he told her where to find the pipe and the tobacco.
Before she got into the hen-coop he said to her:
"I wish I could teach the dog to steer; but that is impossible. But I tell you what—when those yards need trimming I shall want some one to hold on to the slack, and by all that's good Sailor shall do it."
"Why doesn't God enable such a creature as this to speak as we do?" said Julia. "It has the mind—why should it lack the voice, when even the filthiest cannibal may use his tongue?"
"Get you to bed, Julia."
She crept into the hen-coop, wrapped her clothes about her legs, pulled the sailor's coat over her, and lay watching her lover.