Elmer, wrapped in blankets, lay on the deck near the box of Reginald Maltravers, looking even more dejected in slumber than when his eyes were open.

Teddy, the Pomeranian, was snuggled against Elmer's feet, but, as if a prey to frightful nightmares, the little dog twitched and whined in his sleep from time to time.

These were the apparent facts, and these facts were set to a melancholy tune by the long-drawn, dismal snores of Cap'n Abernethy, which rose and fell, and rose and fell, and rose again like the sad and wailing song of some strange bird bereft of a beloved mate.
They were the music for, and the commentary on, what Cleggett beheld; Cap'n Abernethy seemed to be saying, with these snores: "If you was to ask me, I'd say it ain't a cheerful ship this mornin', Mr.Cleggett, it ain't a cheerful ship." But Cleggett's nature was too lively and vigorous to remain clouded for long.

By the time the red disk of the sun had crept above the eastern horizon he had shaken off his fit of the blues.
The sun looked large and bland and friendly, and, somehow, the partisan of integrity and honor.

He drew strength from it.