"A dead calm," said he, after sweeping the horizon with his hand over his eyes, "and blessedly hot."
"Is the ship to be left all standing?" I inquired.
"What do you think?" he replied, with an air of indifference, casting his eyes aloft.
"I should snug her, certainly."
"Why?" he demanded, folding his arms, and staring at me as he leaned against the poop-rail.
"Because, should she drift, and be overhauled by another ship, it will look more ship-shape if she is found snug, as though she had been abandoned in a storm."
"There's something in that," he answered, without shifting his position.
"Shall I tell the men to shorten sail?"
"If you like," he replied, grinning in my face.
I pretended not to observe his odd manner, being very anxious to get in all the sail that I could whilst there were men to do it. So I sang out, "All hands shorten sail!"