But few of them had gone to bed.

Gentleman and roustabout, one and all, were linked together by a common anxiety.

News of the greatest import was expected during the night.
A child was coming to the pathetic little widow of Cruise, the radio-man.
Two messengers had gone down to the landing to wait for the report to be shouted from the afterdeck of the Doraine,--Soapy Shay and Buck Chizler, the jockey.

Now they were returning,--and it was nearing midnight.
They drew near, the lantern buffeting the legs of the one-time diamond thief as he swung along in the rear of the more active jockey.
"It's a girl," called out Buck to the silent mob.

Not a sound, not a word from the eager crowd.