“No, that’s not all, and they didn’t get home. Only one of them got anywhere.” Mar bent his big body slightly forward and clasped his hands round the good knee. The other leg was stretched straight out in front of him, stiff and lifeless looking.
“They kept afloat for several hours,” he went on, “only to be wrecked after all, a mile or two beyond an ugly looking cape called Nome.”
“Wecked! Were vey weally wecked?”
Mar nodded. In an emergency so great Jack did not scruple to turn his back on the stool of penitence. He came and planted himself on wide apart legs, directly in front of Mr. Mar, and stood there waiting. But Mr. Mar seemed to be thinking less about Jack now, and he stared steadily at the hole in the carpet.
“What happened to ve little boat?”
“The little boat was rapidly converted into little flinders.”
“Ven how could ve men get away again?”
“That’s what one of the men would have liked somebody to tell him.”
“Weren’t vere any people vere on vat land?”