Why could he not chant the piratical doggerel that Coke abhorred?
That, at least, would have been more appropriate to present surroundings?
But would it?
Ah, Philip felt a twinge then.
"Touche!" chortled some unseen imp who plied a venomous rapier.

Thank goodness, a sailor was standing by the ship's bell, with his hand on a bit of cord tied to the clapper.

It would soon be seven o'clock.

Even the companionship of the uncouth skipper was preferable to this brooding solitariness.
When Hozier was relieved, and summoned to a meal in the saloon with Norrie and some of the ship's own officers, Iris was nowhere visible.
He went straight to her cabin, and knocked.
"Who is it ?" she asked.
"I, Philip.

Will you be on deck in a quarter of an hour ?" "No." "But this time _I_ want to tell _you_ something." "Philip, dear, I am weary.