The man spoke as gravely as a judge.
"A left-handed marlinspike?" repeated Bob. "I suppose one of the sailors must be left-handed," he thought.
He knew what a marlinspike was from having seen the men use the sharp-pointed irons to pick apart the strands of rope preparatory to splicing, so, anxious to be of service, he hurried to Captain Spark's cabin.
"The men sent me for a left-handed marlinspike," he said, interrupting the commander, who was busy over his accounts.
"A left-handed marlinspike," repeated the commander, at once understanding the joke.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm sorry," was the answer, gravely given, "but I lost it overboard a while ago. You'd better go to Mr. Carr and ask him for the scuttle-butt. That will do as well."
"Yes, sir," replied Bob, who, not suspecting anything, hunted up the first mate and made his request.
"You'll find it right over there," said Mr. Carr, pointing to a big water barrel on deck. It was one from which the sailors drank. "If it's too heavy for you, you'd better get help," said Mr. Carr, trying not to smile. But Bob was aware now that he had been made the butt of a joke, and though he felt a little embarrassed, he had to laugh in spite of himself.
"That's pretty good," he said. "A left-handed marlinspike turns into a scuttle-butt, and that turns into a water barrel. I've got lots to learn yet."