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“You can count on me,” I said, shaking his hand.

“Good! That’s settled, then.”

“Well, Mr. Christian! You’re up late.”

We turned quickly to find Bligh standing a yard away. He was barefoot and dressed only in his shirt and trousers. Neither of us had heard him approach.

“Yes, sir,” Christian replied, coldly.

“And you, Mr. Byam. Can’t you sleep?”

“It’s very warm below, sir.”

“I hadn’t noticed it. A true sailor can sleep in an oven if the case requires. Or on a cake of ice.”

He stood there for a moment as though expecting us to make some reply; then he turned abruptly and walked to the ladderway, halting to glance at the trim of the sails before going below again. Christian and I talked in desultory fashion for a brief time; then he bade me good-night and went forward somewhere.

Tinkler, who had been lying in deep shadow by one of the guns, sat up and stretched his arms with a deep yawn.

“Go below, Byam, and show that you are a true seaman. Damn you and Christian and your gabble! I was just getting drowsy when he came along.”