“Oh no; perhaps not,” said Murray, laughing. “I’ve read that sharks have wonderful digestions.”
“Well, let’s hope this one has. I shall like to look out for him to-morrow watching for the doctor, as he squints up from the wake of the sloop.”
“More likely to be looking up for you, old fellow. The doctor didn’t throw the bottle in.”
“Oh, well, never mind that. I don’t suppose the horrible beast knows the difference. I’ve got rid of the stuff, anyhow; that’s all I care about; and nobody knows but you.”
“Beg pardon, gentlemen,” said a voice out of the darkness; “was you a-chucking anything overboard?”
There was a short time of silence, for Murray waited so as to give his messmate a chance to answer the question; but as the latter made no reply he took the duty upon himself.
“That you, Tom May?” he asked.
“Ay, ay, sir. Somebody chucked somethin’ overboard twiced, and I was wondering whether it was you gents.”
“Why?” said Roberts shortly. “Couldn’t it have been one of the watch?”
“No, sir; they’re aft, or t’other side of the ship.”