“No, sir. Nothink, sir.”
“Captains down there unconscious. There are two marines guarding him,” said Hornblower to Clive, pointing down the hatchway, and Clive swung his bulk painfully on to the ladder and descended.
“Now, corporal,” said Hornblower, “tell the first lieutenant all you know about this.”
The corporal stood stiffly to attention. With no fewer than four lieutenants eyeing him he was nervous, and he probably had a gloomy feeling based on his experience of the service that when there was trouble among the higher ranks it was likely to go ill with a mere corporal who was unfortunate enough to be involved, however innocently. He stood rigid, trying not to meet anybody’s eye.
“Speak up, man,” said Buckland, testily. He was nervous as well, but that was understandable in a first lieutenant whose captain had just met with a serious accident.
“I was corporal of the guard, sir. At two bells I relieved the sentry at the captain’s door.”
“Yes?”
“An—an—then I went to sleep again.”
“Damn it,” said Roberts. “Make your report.”
“I was woke up, sir,” went on the corporal, “by one of the gentlemen. Gunner, I think ‘e is.”