Only one thing, the ship's name, that he was so anxious to know, still remained a secret, which Tom would not betray.

And Tom himself it was who, in accordance with the Consul's orders, had spiked on the name-board when it was nearly dark.
The company at Anders Begmand's had been busy that evening, especially Tom Robson, and by the time it was about ten o'clock he was pretty well tipsy.

Woodlouse was no better; but Torpander kept as sober as usual, looking towards the door every time he heard a noise.

With the darkness a fresh breeze began to blow up from the south-west, which swept over the open ground above Sandsgaard and down on to the fjord.

It made the old cottage shake again when the wind came back in eddies from the hill behind it, and Torpander got up every moment, thinking that the door was opening, to the endless amusement of Mr.Robson.
Martin drank in silence, and looked even more gloomy than usual.