On the ship--rolling ceaselessly from side to side, like some wounded creature, on the opaque profundity of that stagnant ocean--a horrible shadow had fallen.

The Malabar seemed to be enveloped in an electric cloud, whose sullen gloom a chance spark might flash into a blaze that should consume her.
The woman who held in her hands the two ends of the chain that would produce this spark, paused, came up upon deck, and, after a glance round, leant against the poop railing, and looked down into the barricade.

As we have said, the prisoners were in knots of four and five, and to one group in particular her glance was directed.

Three men, leaning carelessly against the bulwarks, watched her every motion.
"There she is, right enough," growled Mr.Gabbett, as if in continuation of a previous remark.

"Flash as ever, and looking this way, too." "I don't see no wipe," said the practical Moocher.
"Patience is a virtue, most noble knuckler!" says the Crow, with affected carelessness.