“Have the people had their suppers yet, Mr. Diggens?” demanded the lieutenant.

“Not yet, sir.  We have no cook of our own, you know, sir, and so have been obliged to wait, sir.”

“The King’s men wait for nobody.  Order that black fellow to let them have their suppers at once; while that is doing, we’ll tell off the watches for the night.”

Diggens was evidently getting more and more under the influence of brandy, keeping the bottle hid somewhere near him, by which means he took frequent draughts unperceived.  He gave the necessary orders, notwithstanding; and presently the men were mustered aft, to be told off into the two watches that were required for the service of the ship.  This was soon done.  Sennit choosing five, and Diggens his five.

“It’s past eight o’clock,” said Sennit, when the selections were made.  “Go below the watch, and all but the man at the wheel of the watch on deck can go below to the lights, to eat.  Bear a hand with your suppers, my lads; this is too big a craft to be left without look-outs forward, though I dare say the Yankees will lend us a hand while you are swallowing a mouthful?”

“To be sure we will, sir,” cried Marble, who had come to the gangway to witness the proceedings.  “Here, you Neb—­come out of that galley and play forecastle-man, while John Bull gets his supper.  He’s always cross when he’s hungry, and we’ll feed him well to make a good neighbourhood.”

This caused some who heard it to laugh, and others to swear and mutter.  Every one, nevertheless, appeared willing to profit by the arrangement, the Englishmen being soon below, hard at work around the kids.  It now struck me that Marble intended to clap the forecastle-hatch down suddenly, and make a rush upon the prize officers and the man at the wheel.  Leaving one hand to secure the scuttle, we should have been just a man apiece for those on deck; and I make no doubt the project would have succeeded, had it been attempted in that mode.  I was, by nature, a stronger man than Sennit, besides being younger and in my prime; while Diggens would not have been more than a child in Marble’s hands.  As for the man at the wheel, Neb could have thrown him half-way up to the mizen-top, on an emergency.  But it seemed that my mate had a deeper project in view; nor was the other absolutely certain, as I afterwards learned, one of the Englishmen soon coming out of the forecastle, to eat on deck, quite likely aware that there might be some risk in letting all hands remain below.

It was now sufficiently dark for our purposes, and I began to reflect seriously on the best mode of proceeding, when, all at once, a heavy splash in the water was heard, and Marble was heard shouting, “Man overboard!”

Sennit and I ran to the lee main-rigging, where we just got a glimpse of the hat of the poor fellow, who seemed to be swimming manfully, as the ship foamed past him.

“Starboard, your helm!” shouted Marble.—­“Starboard, your helm!  Come to these fore-braces, Neb—­bear a hand this a-way, you cook.  Captain Wallingford, please lend us a pull.  Look out for the boat, Mr. Sennit; we’ll take care of the head-yards.”