and took his grub alone as the skipper was fast sleep. When he turned out again at four o'clock he found the fog as thick as ever, and Bill Day as cross as he could stick at having to yank the whistle laniard every minute or so. As soon as Ward showed his nose on the bridge Bill let out at him.
"What kind of a relief do you call this?" he demanded savagely. "I wish I'd had this laniard round your neck, I'd have had you out of your bunk in good time, I swear."
As a matter of fact. Ward was only three minutes behind time, and always prided himself on giving a good relief.
"Has Double Glo'ster been worrying you that you're so sick?" he asked. "You know damn well that you owe me hours. Oh, don't talk, go below and die, as you always do when you see blankets. Has there been much ice?"
"It's blinking all round the bally shop," returned the second mate. "Didn't you wake when I stopped her dead?"
"No," said Ward.
"And you talk of my dying when I get below," retorted Day. He slid off the bridge, and proceeded to justify he mate's accusation by
