But on this night, waiting for the dew, a little of it, to become more, on the surfaces that were mine, I heard the noises of a dew-lapper moving aft along the port-gunwale--which was my property aft of the stroke-thwart clear to the stern.

I emerged from a nightmare dream of crystal springs and swollen rivers to listen to this night-drinker that I feared might encroach upon what was mine.
"Nearer he came to the line of my property, and I could hear him making little moaning, whimpering noises as he licked the damp wood.

It was like listening to an animal grazing pasture-grass at night and ever grazing nearer.
"It chanced I was holding a boat-stretcher in my hand--to catch what little dew might fall upon it.

I did not know who it was, but when he lapped across the line and moaned and whimpered as he licked up my precious drops of dew, I struck out.

The boat-stretcher caught him fairly on the nose--it was the bo's'n--and the mutiny began.