I sat there quietly, perched on a coil of rope, with head just high enough to permit an unobstructed view over the side.
The deck aft was almost deserted, the passengers being at supper in the cabin.

I could glimpse them through the unshaded windows, seated about a long table, while occasionally the sound of their voices reached me through the open companion-way.

The mate was alone on the poop, tramping steadily back and forth, his glance wandering from the sea alongside to the flapping canvas above, but remained silent, as the brig was on her course.

Once he clambered down the side ladder, and walked forward, shouting out some order to a group of sailors under the lee of the forecastle.

It was on his return that I ventured to question him, and was gruffly answered.