"Yes—hush! don't make a row."
"Here's the governor, Joe," said Jack Tiller.
Joe Basalt turned round with a start, and hung his head abashed.
"It's all right, Joe," said Harkaway, "Don't worry any more about it; only you were wrong to conceal it from me, that's all. And now let us look at the patient. He is ill, Jack Tiller tells me."
"Yes, your honour."
"Turn your lantern upon his face."
The sailor opened his bull's-eye.
As its glare flashed upon the half swooning man, he opened his eyes.
The recognition was mutual—yes, and instantaneous.
The stowaway glared fiercely upwards, and uttered but one word—