“That’s better. Now then, what do you want?”
“Our Tally.”
“Your what?”
“Our cow, Tally.”
“How do I know it’s yours?”
“Why, it is. She must have walked over the cliff in the fog. Was your cutter close under so as she fell on deck?”
“Of course not, bumpkin,” said Archy impatiently, as the men burst into a guffaw, and then looked horribly serious as if they had not smiled. “We saw her swimming and fetched her on board.”
“Thank ye,” said Ram. “I say, how am I to get her home? Can you lend us a rope?”
“Who are you, boy?” said the lieutenant, marching up.
Ram faced round, stared at the officer’s rather shabby uniform, and gave his curl another tug before pulling his red cap over his brow.