"What the deuce you doing here?"
"Desartin, sir. They was for floggin me at sun-up."
"What for?"
"For—for fun."
"For what?"
"For funk, sir," panted the boy, recovering. "Oi don't care for being shotted. So when the guns begins to bang, Oi goos to bed."
The Gentleman threw back his head and ran off into laughter.
"You're the right sort, Mr. Toad. Come on board by all means. But for you and your likes the world'd be a dull place."
Kit clambered in.
"What's that bag?" asked the Gentleman, swift as a sword.