There was little fighting spirit here. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. Sometimes at sea a skipper will order his men to trim, batten down the hatches, and clear the deck of all litter. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. To be exact, it was just sixteen hours and twenty minutes. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. '" "No, we can't stand that," hiccupped Smith, scarcely able to keep his legs.
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