“Some one hit me on the nose and tumbled me down the hatch, first go off,” growled that worthy.
“That’s good,” said Sam. “Well, then, they’ve done for Dick Rolls, I know.”
“No they ain’t,” said the sailor, in an injured tone. “I got a chop on the head, and it’s bleeding fine, and I bolted down here. Where’s the good o’ you going and telling such lies, Mr Sam Oakum?”
“Well, third time never misses,” muttered Sam. “What’s come o’ Mr Jones?”
There was no reply here.
“He wouldn’t jyne the mutineers, would he?” said Sam after a pause.
“No,” said the captain sternly.
“Then it was him as they’ve cut down and chucked overboard.”
“Where are the other men?” said the captain, after a horrified pause caused by Sam Oakum’s announcement.
“Them as arn’t in the swim is down in the forksel,” said Sam, gruffly, “with all the chain cable piled atop on ’em, I expect; but it seemed to me as if the deck was swarming in the dark with fellows, all a trying to let daylight into your ribs.”