“That’s all right, corporal,” said Buckland. “Just tell the truth.”
The knowledge that the captain was unconscious and perhaps badly hurt had reassured him, just as it had reassured Bush.
“So I took the other file down the ladder, sir,” said the corporal. “I went first with the lantern, seein’ as ‘ow I didn’t ‘ave no musket with me. We got down to the foot of the ladder in among those cases down there, sir. The cap’n, ‘e was yellin’ down the hatchway. ‘’Urry,’ he says. ‘’Urry. Don’t let ‘em escape. ‘Urry.’ So we started climbin’ for’ard over the stores, sir.”
The corporal hesitated as he approached the climax of his story. He might possibly have been seeking a crude dramatic effect, but more likely he was still afraid of being entangled in circumstances that might damage him despite his innocence.
“What happened then?” demanded Buckland.
“Well, sir—”
Coleman reappeared at this moment, encumbered with various gear, including a light sixfoot plank he had been carrying on his shoulder. He looked to Buckland for permission to carry on, received a nod, laid the plank on the deck along with the canvas and lines, and disappeared with the rest down the ladder.
“Well?” said Buckland to the corporal.
“I dunno what ‘appened, sir.”
“Tell us what you know.”