They dragged wet
rags from evil-smelling corners, and wringing the water out, recognised
their property. Some smiled stiffly. Others looked round blank and mute.
There were cries of joy over old waistcoats, and groans of sorrow over
shapeless things found among the splinters of smashed bed boards. One
lamp was discovered jammed under the bowsprit. Charley whimpered a
little. Knowles stumped here and there, sniffing, examining dark places
for salvage. He poured dirty water out of a boot, and was concerned
to find the owner. Those who, overwhelmed by their losses, sat on the
forepeak hatch, remained elbows on knees, and, with a fist against each
cheek, disdained to look up. He pushed it under their noses. "Here's
a good boot. Yours?" They snarled, "No--get out." One snapped at him,
"Take it to hell out of this." He seemed surprised. "Why? It's a good
boot," but remembering suddenly that he had lost every stitch of his
clothing, he dropped his find and began to swear. In the dim light
cursing voices clashed. A man came in and, dropping his arms, stood
still, repeating from the doorstep, "Here's a bloomin' old go! Here's a
bloomin' old go!" A few rooted anxiously in flooded chests for tobacco.
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