In the big life-boat swung above the hurricane-deck lay Sandy Kilday, snugly concealed by the heavy canvas covering.
He had managed to come aboard under cover of the friendly fog, and had boldly appropriated a life-boat and was doing light housekeeping.

The apartment, to be sure, was rather small and dark, for the only light came through a tiny aperture where the canvas was tucked back.

At this end Sandy attended to his domestic duties.
Here were stored the fresh water and hardtack which the law requires every life-boat to carry in case of an emergency.

Added to these was Sandy's private larder, consisting of several loaves of bread, a bag of apples, and some canned meat.

The other end of the boat was utilized as a bedroom, a couple of life-preservers serving as the bed, and his own bundle of personal belongings doing duty as a pillow.
There were some drawbacks, naturally, especially to an energetic, restless youngster who had never been in one place so long before in his life.