"There's two of 'em on the bowsprit!" someone cried.
"What's that?" Pierre himself came running at the surprising information.
"They're a-comin'," said Ben in a whisper to Dare. "Keep your head and leave everything to me."
"Hello!" they heard Pierre shout, "is anyone there?"
"Aye, we're here right enough," answered Ben as though he were in a passion, "we're here right enough, what you've left of us. And what we wants to know is this—what do you mean by runnin' without lights, eh? You've lost us a boat and nearly our lives, not to mention as nice a lot of liquor and tobaccy as ever you'd wish to see in a day's walk. What're you goin' to do about it, eh? I'll have the law on you—aye, I will, you cold-blooded bunch of deep-water murderers!"
"Close his mouth, somebody," shouted Pierre, incensed, "or he'll have every boat within five miles coming to see what's the matter. Bring them aft. Hey, you, how many are there of you?"
"Two," shouted back Ben, "and it's a good job for you there ain't more."
"Bring them aft," repeated Pierre impatiently.
"We don't need to be brought," said Ben. "We'll come quick enough. We wants a word or two with you, mister."
And stumbling along in the dark as best they could, led by the crew, now thoroughly recovered from their scare, they eventually reached the cabin where Pierre had preceded them.