XII. The WhipThat was an uneasy night aboard the Buccaneer. Early in the morning I was awakened by a heavy sense of foreboding. I saw by the light through my portholes that it was just coming full day; in other words, between five and six o’clock. Something was different from other mornings; something was wrong.
Suddenly I realized that what I missed was the swish-swish of the heavy sandstone with which the deck overhead was scoured every morning. The time-table at sea is as unchangeable as the passage of the sun. If they were not scouring the decks as usual at this hour, it meant that the whole discipline of the ship was interrupted.
Mme. Storey appeared in the doorway of my cabin, and I saw by her grave face that she was disturbed, too. She said, “Get up, Bella, and let’s go on deck.”
