MR. JONES TAKES STRONG MEASURES TO SECURE HIS ENDS, AND INTRODUCES BILLY
AND HIS FRIENDS TO SOME NEW SCENES AND MOMENTS.
Again we are in the neighbourhood of the Goodwin sands. It is evening.
The sun has just gone down. The air and sea are perfectly still. The
stars are coming out one by one, and the floating lights have already
hoisted their never-failing signals.
The Nora lies becalmed not far from the Goodwin buoy, with her sails
hanging idly on the yards. Bill Towler stands at the helm with all the
aspect and importance of a steersman, but without any other duty to
perform than the tiller could have performed for itself. Morley Jones
stands beside him with his hands in his coat pockets, and Stanley Hall
sits on the cabin skylight gazing with interest at the innumerable
lights of the shipping in the roadstead, and the more distant houses on
shore. Jim Welton, having been told that he will have to keep watch all
night, is down below taking a nap, and Grundy, having been ordered below
to attend to some trifling duty in the fore part of the vessel, is also
indulging in slumber.
Long and earnestly and anxiously had Morley Jones watched for an
opportunity to carry his plans into execution, but as yet without
success. Either circumstances were against him, or his heart had failed
him at the push. He walked up and down the deck with uncertain steps,
sat down and rose up frequently, and growled a good deal--all of which
symptoms were put down by Stanley to the fact that there was no wind.