She'll snore till midnight, an' jest when we're gettin' our sleep she'll strike adrift.

Good job we ain't crowded with craft hereaways.

But I ain't goin' to up anchor fer Chatham.

She may hold." The wind, which had hauled round, rose at sundown and blew steadily.
There was not enough sea, though, to disturb even a dory's tackle, but the _Carrie Pitman_ was a law unto herself.

At the end of the boys' watch they heard the crack-crack-crack of a huge muzzle-loading revolver aboard her.
"Glory, glory, hallelujah!" sung Dan.