“Please,” said Vince. “Thank you.—I say—”
“Nay, you don’t, lad,” said the man, with gruff good humour; “you’ve nothing to say to me, and I’ve nothing to say to you. I don’t want the skipper to come down on my head with a capstan bar. Here, both on you: just a word as I will say—Don’t you be sarcy to the skipper. He’s Frenchy, and he’s got a temper of his own, so just you mind how you trim your boats. There, good-night.”
“One moment,” said Vince, in a quick whisper.
Bang! went the door, and they heard a hasp put over a staple and a padlock rattled in.
“Here, youngsters!” came through the door.
“What is it?”
“Mind you put out that light when you’re in your bunks. Good-night!”
“Good-night,” said Mike.
“Bad night,” said Vince. And then: “Oh, Ladle, old chap, what shall we do?”