"Drinking!" he mused, as he waited. "Well, perhaps I can get a gun if they drink to stupidity."
Soon Florrie's hand opened the door, and the garments came through. Denman had little trouble now in donning them, and, with his head tied up as before, he passed through the captain's apartment to the deck. It was a mild, sunshiny morning, with little wind, and that from the northeast. White globes of cloud showed here and there, and Denman knew them for the unmistakable sign of the trade winds. But he was more interested in matters on deck. All hands except Billings, who was singing in the galley, and Munson, one of the wireless men, were clustered around the forward funnel; and there were several bottles circulating around. Forsythe, with a sextant in his hand, was berating them.
"Go slow, you infernal ginks," he snarled at them, "or you'll be so drunk in an hour that you won't know your names. Ready--in there, Munson?"
"Yes," answered Munson from the pilot-house.
Forsythe put the sextant to his eye, and swept it back and forth for a few moments.
"Time," he called suddenly, and, lowering the sextant, looked in on Munson.
"Yes; and have it down in black and white." Forsythe made a notation from the sextant on a piece of paper.
"Now, again," said Forsythe, and again he took a sight, shouted, "Time," and made another notation.
Then he went into the pilot-house and Munson came out and made the shortest cut to the nearest bottle.
"He's taken chronometer sights," mused Denman, as he leaned against the companion hood. "Well, he's progressing fast, but there never was a doubt that he is a scholar."
He went down, and through a crack of the door obtained Miss Florrie's permission to keep the cloak and skirt for the morning, as he wanted to see later how the drinking was progressing. Florrie consented, and he went to his room to wait.
As he waited, the sounds above grew ominous. Oaths and loud laughter, shouts, whoops, and grumblings, mingled with Forsythe's angry voice of command, came down to him through the open deadlight. Soon he heard the thumping of human bodies on deck, and knew there was a fight going on.
A fight always appealed to him; and, yielding to this unworthy curiosity, Denman again passed through the captain's quarters, making sure on the way that Florrie was locked in, and reached the deck.