THE LAMP OF ST. NICHOLAS 365 



my pocket turned the key of the box. ' Now, my 

 friends,' I thought, ' you may chuck the box over, but 

 you don't get the bolvans.' 



Of course it was all discussed on deck, but when I went 

 up I found them all very quiet, and nothing was said. 



Alexander and Yakoff both came down into the 

 cabin presently, and talked with us as if nothing had 

 happened. All seemed going well. The wind was a 

 bit stiffer, but all in our favour, the night was clear, and 

 St. Nicholas' lamp was burning well, for the cabin air 

 was warm. 



Hyland, who knew nothing of all this — I had not told 

 him, and he did not understand Russian — soon went to 

 bed, and we three went on deck. 



The wind was certainly freshening, and we went along 

 at a fair speed. After stopping on deck for an hour or 

 more, I thought I too would turn in. I could just make 

 out our consort's outline, and, holding the cabin door in 

 my hand, I shouted out ' Good-night ' to Tima Fe, 

 who, as I knew, was at the helm. Was there ever 

 such a Solomon Eagle as he ! My voice roused him in 

 a moment. His muddled old brain pitched on the only 

 theme it could connect with me. 



'Bad bolvan, bad bolvan,' he shouted back. And 

 then across the water came the inevitable dreary formula, 

 ' England far away. Yes, yes, far, far away.' 



I stumbled down into the cabin. All was dark. The 

 Lamp of St. Nicholas had gone out. 



