In the foc's'le Jack quickly regained his senses, the men contending eagerly for the honour of attending upon him.
A buzz of conversation went round as the port watch, who had been washed out of their bunks by the big sea, eagerly asked question after question.
Suddenly the bosun stood in the broken doorway.
"How are you feeling, Jack? It were a pretty close call, weren't it? Smite me pink, but you've got the pluck of the devil, an' I'm proud to be shipmates with ye. Your hand, mate," and he grasped the rover's hand in his great paw with a grip of iron.
"I'll be as right as can be, directly," said Jack weakly.
"Well, you just stay where you are and don't think of moving," replied the bosun. "Now then, the rest of you starbowlines, out you come! There's heaps of work to do"; and he retired aft, followed by the watch.
The carpenter was routed out, and whilst some of the men helped the steward in the cabin the rest were kept busy nailing up weather-boards over the broken windows of the afterhouse.
CHAPTER XIII
"THE MAN WITH THE GUN"