The sailors were at first rather nonplussed, but by dint of much
coaxing and argument broke up the party, and rowing them to their
respective vessels, put them carefully to bed.
CONTRABAND OF WAR
A small but strong lamp was burning in the fo'c'sle of the schooner
Greyhound, by the light of which a middle-aged seaman of sedate
appearance sat crocheting an antimacassar. Two other men were snoring
with deep content in their bunks, while a small, bright-eyed boy sat up
in his, reading adventurous fiction.
"Here comes old Dan," said the man with the anti-macassar warningly, as
a pair of sea boots appeared at the top of the companion-ladder; "better
not let him see you with that paper, Billee."
The boy thrust it beneath his blankets, and, lying down, closed his eyes
as the new comer stepped on to the floor.
"All asleep?" inquired the latter.
The other man nodded, and Dan, without any further parley, crossed over
to the sleepers and shook them roughly.
"Eh! wha's matter?" inquired the sleepers plaintively.
"Git up," said Dan impressively, "I want to speak to you. Something
important."
With sundry growls the men complied, and, thrusting their legs out of
their bunks, rolled on to the locker, and sat crossly waiting for
information.
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