nearly midnight before
Mrs. Harbolt spent most of her time on deck , thereby confining her husband to his evil-smelling quarters below . Matters were not improved for him by his treatment of the crew , who , resenting his rough treatment of them , were doing their best to starve him into civility . Most of the time he kept in his bunk -- or rather Jemmy 's bunk -- a prey to despondency and hunger of an acute type , venturing on deck only at night to prowl uneasily about and bemoan his condition . On the third night Mrs. Harbolt was later in retiring than usual , and it was nearly midnight before the skipper , who had been indignantly waiting for her to go , was able to get on deck and hold counsel with the mate . `` I 've done what I could for you , '' said the latter , fishing a crust from his pocket , which Harbolt took thankfully . `` I 've told her all the yarns I could think of about people turning up after they was buried and the like . '' `` What 'd she say ? ''