It was decided that the first watch should commence at nine o’clock, with Nelson on duty; that Tom should relieve him at eleven, and be followed by Bob and Dan in order. But when nine came, those who were off duty refused to go to bed in spite of Nelson’s protests. Instead, they wrapped themselves up and snuggled down in the cockpit out of the wind, which seemed to be freshening gradually and was quite chill, and talked and stared up at the stars or across the black void to where Minot’s flashed its signal. Once lights, a white and a green, passed them to the eastward, but there was no telling how far distant the craft was, and Nelson decided that it would be a waste of breath to try and make those on board of her hear. The novelty of the situation added its spice of enjoyment, and it was long after ten when Tom announced sleepily that he was going to turn in.
“What’s the use, Tommy?” asked Dan. “You’ll have to take the watch in a half hour.”
But Tom only muttered incoherently as he stumbled below. Dan and Bob followed soon after, and Nelson was left alone. He drew the hatch shut in order to cut off the light which came from below, and took his stand by the wheel. Presently Bob shouted good night, and he answered. Then everything was very silent out there. For awhile he kept his eyes busy on all sides, but such a sharp outlook was quite unnecessary, and so presently he leaned his elbows on the cabin roof and let his thoughts wander. He blamed himself for their predicament, and would be heartily glad when they were once more in port. Six bells sounded below, but he was not sleepy, and so he didn’t wake Tom until almost midnight. It was no easy matter even then, but at last Tom stumbled up on deck, promising sleepily to keep a sharp watch, and Nelson divested himself of his shoes and sweater and threw himself onto his bunk. Barry watched him from his nest at Dan’s feet and thumped his tail companionably. Sleep didn’t come readily, and so he lay for awhile with wide-opened eyes, staring at the dim light above Dan’s berth. Presently his thoughts worked around to Tom out there on deck. He recollected how sleepy that youth had been when he went out, and he became uneasy. Of course, with the lights in place, there was really no danger of anyone running them down, but at the same time there was always a possibility of accident, and Nelson felt himself liable for the safety of his companions. Presently he slipped off the berth and crossed the engine room quietly. All was still outside save for the rush of the wind and the slap of the water against the boat. He put his head out, expecting to see Tom huddled up asleep on the seat. Instead—