Immediately, Navy Bob, a stout old Triton, stealthily descended, and at once went to groping in the locker after something to eat.
Supper ended, he proceeded to load his pipe.

Now, for a good comfortable smoke at sea, there never was a better place than the Julia's forecastle at midnight.

To enjoy the luxury, one wants to fall into a kind of dreamy reverie, only known to the children of the weed.

And the very atmosphere of the place, laden as it was with the snores of the sleepers, was inducive of this.

No wonder, then, that after a while Bob's head sunk upon his breast; presently his hat fell off, the extinguished pipe dropped from his mouth, and the next moment he lay out on the chest as tranquil as an infant.
Suddenly an order was heard on deck, followed by the trampling of feet and the hauling of rigging.