their bunks, some on the floor. The
orders were that none should sleep on deck during the voyage to the
Catwick.

"All because the old man brings a skirt on board, we have to sweat blood
in the forepeak!" growled Flint. "We've got a right to a little sport."

"Sure we have!"

The speaker was sitting on the edge of his bunk. He was a fine specimen
of young manhood, with a pleasant, rollicking Irish countenance. He looked
as if he had been brought up clean and had carried his cleanliness into
the world. The blue anchor and love birds on his formidable forearms
proclaimed him a deep-sea man. It was he who had given Dennison the shirt
and the ducks.

"Sure, we have a right to a little sport! But why call in the undertaker
to help us out? You poor fish, all the way from San Francisco you've been
grousing because shore leaves weren't long enough for you to get prime
soused in. What's two months in our young lives?"

"I've always been free to do as I liked."

"You look it! I'll say so! The chief laid down the rules of this game, and
we all took oath to follow those rules. The trouble with you is, you've
been reading dime novels. Where do you think you are--raiding the Spanish
Main? There's every chance of our coming out top hole, as those
lime-juicers say, with oodles of dough and a whole skin."

"Say, don't I know this Sulu game? I tell you, if he does find his atoll
there won't be any shell. Not a chance in a hundred! Somebody's been
giving him a song and dance. As I get the dope, some pearl-hunting friend
of his croaks and leaves him this chart. Old stuff! I bet a million boobs
have croaked trying to locate the red cross on a chart."

"Why the devil did you sign on, then?"

"I wanted a little fun, and I'm going to have it. There's champagne and
Napoleon brandy in the dry-stores. Wouldn't hurt us to have a little of
it. If we've got to go to jail we might as well go lit up."

"Flint, you talk too much," said a voice from the doorway. It was
Cunningham's. He leaned carelessly against the jamb. The crew fell silent
and motionless. "Boys, you've heard Hennessy. Play it my way and you'll
wear diamonds; mess it up and you'll all wear hemp. The world will forgive
us when it finds out we've only made it laugh." Cunningham strolled over
to Flint, who rose to his feet. "Flint, I want that crimp-house whisky
you've been swigging on the sly. No back talk! Hand it over!"

"And if I don't?" said Flint, his jaw jutting.