He was about to speak, but stopped short and said, "Ay, ay, sir;" whereupon I hurried aft.
It was twenty minutes past five by the clock in the cuddy. The sun had been risen half an hour, and was already warming the decks. But there was a fine breeze—not from the eastward, as Duckling had said, but well to the northward of east—which brought ripe, fresh morning smells from the land with it, and made the water run in little leaps of foam against the ship's side.
Captain Coxon and the pilot were both on the poop, and as I came up the former called out—
"Is the boatswain awake yet?"
"Yes, sir," I answered, and dived into my cabin to finish dressing. I heard the boatswain's pipe sound, followed by the roar of his voice summoning the hands to weigh anchor. My station was on the forecastle, and thither I went. But none of the hands had emerged as yet, the only man seen being the fellow on the look-out. All about us the outward-bound vessels were taking advantage of the wind: some of them were already standing away, others were sheeting home their canvas; the clanking of the windlasses was incessant, and several Deal boats were driving under their lugs among the shipping.
"Mr. Royle," cried out the captain, "jump below, will you, and see what those fellows are about."
I went to the fore-scuttle and peered into it, bawling, "Below there!"
"There's no use singing out," said a voice; "we don't mean to get the ship under way until you give us something fit to eat."
"Who was that who spoke?" I called. "Show yourself, my man."
A fellow came and stood under the fore-scuttle, and looking up, said in a bold, defiant way—