It may have been about eight o'clock when the merriment on board was of a sudden hushed, and Lady Biddy, looking from the door to see what this might mean, perceived a seaman coming up the hatchway in the fore part of the ship, with a jar and a bundle in one hand, and dragging the cook's boy up by the hair of his head with the other. Being come on deck he lead the urchin, crying lustily, towards Rodrigues, who was standing not far from the roundhouse.
"I've watched the little hound as you bid me, your honor," says the man, addressing Rodrigues; "and I ketched him sneaking down below with these here, which he dropped when he sees me, whereby I knowed he was up to no good."
"What are those?" asks Rodrigues, indicating the jar and the bundle.
"A noggin o' water, your honor," says the seaman; "and," he adds (undoing the clout), "a mess o' wittles. Axed me not to tell you, your honor."
"Whom were you taking those things to?" asks Rodrigues.
"No one, your honor," cries the boy, whimpering. "I was a-going to eat 'em myself."
"Whom were you taking them to?" Rodrigues repeats, in the same even tone.
The boy looked at him, and, clasping his wretched little hands, cried for mercy.
"Overboard with him," says Rodrigues.
A couple of men seized hold of him.