The skipper scratched his head furiously, and stared again.
“Here, can’t you speak, you long-legged thing?” he cried. “Who are you?”
“Why, it’s Jack Penny!” I exclaimed.
“Jack who?” cried the captain.
“Jack Penny, sir. His father is a squatter about ten miles from our place.”
“Well, but how came he—I mean that tall thin chap, not his father—to be squatting aboard my schooner?”
“Why, Jack,” I said, “when did you come aboard?”
“Come aboard?” he said slowly, as if it took him some time to understand what I said. “Oh, the night before you did.”
“But where have you been all the time?”
“Oh, down below there,” said Jack slowly.