Already a face was looking over the bulwarks.

The hands were on the forecastle, still busy clearing decks after the confusion of letting go anchor and hauling in the jib-boom.
Barebone could see them leave off work and turn to look at him.

One or two raised a hand in salutation and then turned again to their task.
Already the mate--a Farlingford man, who had succeeded Loo--was standing on the rail fingering a coil of rope.
"Old man is down below," he said, giving Barebone a hand.

From the forecastle came sundry grunts, and half a dozen heads were jerked sideways at him.
Captain Clubbe was in the cabin, where the remains of breakfast had been pushed to one end of the table to make room for pens and ink.

The Captain was laboriously filling in the countless documents required by the French custom-house.