The captain looked down upon him, and then laid his white hand—which also, under the broad wristband, bore the telltale mark—upon Jem's shoulder.
Jem started up with an exclamation and an expression of fear so palpable that Captain Murpoint looked at him with some attention.
"Asleep, man," he said, rallying him in a soft, mocking voice. "You have been asleep for some weeks, my friend. It is time you, and I also, woke up. There is work to do."
"I'm glad of it," said Jem, with an oath and with a transient gleam of interest.
"Jem, you used to be able to climb. I have seen you cling to the cliffs like a bat, with your eyebrows. Have you lost that art?"
Jem shook his head.
"No," he said. "I'm pretty strong in this arm and I ain't lost my cheek, captain. They used to call me the monkey, and p'r'aps I deserved it."
"Then I think we'll test your power to-night," said the captain. "Can you get down to the stable?"
"Yes," said Jem, with a frown, "if it wasn't for the dog. He's a beast, and we hates each other like poison!"
"That's natural," smiled the captain. "Nevertheless you must get down, Jem. Reach me two or three pairs of those thick shooting stockings from that drawer."