I think, myself, it must be anger that makes them shine, for they generally do it when they are stirred up or knocked about by oars, or ships' keels, or tumbling waves.

But I am not sure that that's the reason either, because, you know, we often sail through them without seeing the light, though of course they must be there." "P'r'aps, sir," said Tom Lokins; "p'r'aps, sir, they're sleepy sometimes, an' can't be bothered gettin' angry." "Perhaps!" answered the captain, laughing.

"But then again, at other times, I have seen them shining over the whole sea when it was quite calm, making it like an ocean of milk; and nothing was disturbing them at that time, d'ye see." "I don' know _that_," objected Tom; "they might have bin a-fightin' among theirselves." "Or playing, maybe," said I.
The captain laughed, and, looking up at the sky, said: "I don't like the look of the weather, Tom Lokins.

You're a sharp fellow, and have been in these seas before; what say you ?" "We'll have a breeze," replied Tom, briefly.
"More than a breeze," muttered the captain, while a look of grave anxiety overspread his countenance; "I'll go below and take a squint at the glass." "What does he mean by that, Tom ?" said I, when the captain was gone; "I never saw a calmer or a finer night.

Surely there is no chance of a storm just now." "Aye, that shows that you're a young feller, and han't got much experience o' them seas," replied my companion.