away to starboard had lost somewhat its distinctness, and over
the day an almost imperceptible shade had crept.

The captain suddenly turned from his contemplation of the sea
and sky, raised his head and sniffed.

"Something is burning somewhere--smell it? Seems to me like an
old mat or summat. It's that swab of a steward, maybe; if he isn't
breaking glass, he's upsetting lamps and burning holes in the
carpet. Bless MY soul, I'd sooner have a dozen Mary Anns an' their
dustpans round the place than one tomfool steward like Jenkins."
He went to the saloon hatch. "Below there!"

"Ay, ay, sir."

"What are you burning?"

"I an't burnin' northen, sir."

"Tell you, I smell it!"

"There's northen burnin' here, sir."

"Neither is there; it's all on deck. Something in the galley,
maybe-- rags, most likely, they've thrown on the fire."

"Captain!" said Lestrange.

"Ay, ay."