The boatswain and the little sailor both lay down in different places on the cases and bales and listened, but only to rise up and declare that the sound came from quite a different direction.
“Hang it all!” cried the first-mate; “it isn’t a question of amount of cargo to unstow, but of time before we get at the miserable wretch. Now, what right has a man to come and hide down here, and upset the whole cargo and crew!”
“My dear Gregory,” cried the second-mate, “do let’s begin somewhere.”
“Yes, but where, my lad—where? Listen again. There, it’s further in—ever so much.”
“Sounds like it,” assented the second-mate. “Here, stop your noise!”
This last was consequent upon a dismal howl uttered by Bruff, who felt himself aggrieved at being left alone.
“Here, here!” cried Mark excitedly, and, raising his hands, he took the dog as he was passed down by the sailors. “Stop a minute, Mr Gregory, my dog will smell him out.”
“Bravo, boy!” cried the first-mate, as Bruff was set down, no light-weight, on the stowed-in cargo. “Good dog, then!”
“Hush!” cried Mark, whose heart was beating painfully.
“Silence there!” cried Mr Small.