The buffeting of the wind in the sail and the rising noise of the sea had kept much of this from Stephen, but he at last became conscious that something unusual was going on, and made his way to the bows.
“Father!” cried poor Hugh, flying to him.
“Why, my little lad!” said Bassett, unable himself to avoid a smile, “what coil have you got into?”
“What is it?” demanded the boy, in a shamefaced whisper, as his father proceeded quietly to loosen the great claws.
“A lobster. Didst never see his like? He will be a dainty morsel for supper, and will change his blue coat for a scarlet. There,” he added, as he finished his task, “I counsel Agrippa not to let his curiosity jeopardise his tail. But how did he fasten on you?”
“It was that wicked Jakes!” cried Hugh, with flashing eyes.
“Were a stealing my apples,” Jakes retorted, defiantly. “Told him there was apples in the bag, and he put in his hand and the lobster caught un.” And clapping his unshapely hands on his knees, he roared with laughter once more, until he bent himself double. Hugh flew at him like a tiger, but the other sailor pulled him off.
“Never heed the great lozel,” he said. “It was but an apple.”
“He told me—he told me to put in my hand and take one out,” panted Hugh, struggling with his captor. “He’s a false liar!”
“Softly, Hugh, softly,” said his father gravely.