"Cos why? Ain't he bin telling lies by the pint measure? He's been humbugging of us," persisted Basalt.
"Let's go and talk reasonable to him, then," said Tiller, "for this must come to an end. Damme, if I don't feel as if I'd been an' done a hanging job at the very least."
They went to the hold and found Hunston.
The appearance of the wretched stowaway was by this time something dreadful.
"We have come to the conclusion, mister," said Joe Basalt, "that there is nothing for it but to let the skipper know all."
Hunston pricked up his ears at this.
"Do what?" he exclaimed, violently. "Split upon me, would ye?"
"That's a rum word to use," said Joe Basalt. "You are precious feverish, and if you only was to see our skipper and let him know what you told us when we picked you out of the water, he would help you—"
"To a halter," muttered the castaway.
"Did you speak?"