There was a little bustle forward, in the midst of which a boat came up alongside, and the man in it was allowed to come on board.
He was a big, broad-shouldered, heavy fellow, with rough black beard and dark eyes, which glowered at those around as a lanthorn was held up by one of the men. “Where’s the skipper?” he growled. “Bring the man aft,” cried the lieutenant. “This way.”
“All right, mate; I can find my way; I aren’t a baby,” said the man as he took three or four strides, lifting up his big fisherman’s boots, and setting them heavily down upon the deck as if they were something separate from him which he had brought on board.
“Now, my man, brought news of him?” cried the lieutenant eagerly. “Eh?”
And the great fellow seemed to tower over the little commander.
“I say, have you brought news of the boy?”
“What boy?”
“Haven’t you come to tell me where he is?”
“Here, what yer talking about?” growled the man. “I aren’t come ’bout no boys.”