"Sure, I didn't——"
"Master Bones," my uncle went on without raising his voice, "did you ever know a man named Fotherill—Jack, I believe, was the given name?"
Bones nodded, unable to speak.
"And what did I order done to him, Master Bones?"
Bones moistened his lips.
"Keel-hauled, he was."
"Correct," agreed my great-uncle. "Keel-hauled. A most expressive phrase, Robert," he added to me. "Technically, I should explain, it involves drawing a man under the keel of a vessel. It has—shall we say?—unpleasant consequences."
He turned to Bones.
"No man disobeys an order of mine more than once, Master Bones. That is all. You may go for'ard."
The man started to slouch off, wiping the blood from his cheek with his coat sleeve; but Peter stepped in front of him.