“Here,” shouted the captain, who was in a towering passion, “where’s that Tom Jinks?”
“Here he is, sir; here he is, sir,” cried half a dozen voices, and the men opened out to give him a full view of the trembling sailor.
“Now, sir, what call had you to tell us that you had brought Mr Lynton aboard last night?”
“So we did—didn’t we, mate?”
This to another of the sailors, who was staring hard at the new-comer.
“Oh, yes, we fetched him off in the little boat,” said the man addressed.
“No, you didn’t,” said the second mate sourly.
“Well!” exclaimed Tom Jinks, who began to see now that it was real flesh and blood before him. “Why, we did, and you was—well, I ain’t going to say what. Wasn’t he, mate?”
“Oh, yes, that’s a true word,” said the other man.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the second mate indignantly; “and if either of you says that I was on I’ll knock you down.”