The first mate exchanged glances with the captain, who spoke out at once.
“Then how did your hat come on board, sir?”
“I don’t know, I tell you, captain,” cried Lynton. “All I know is that as soon as I woke up I went half-mad, and ran down to the river, to find you’d sailed without me; and then I got that black fellow to paddle me down after you in his canoe.”
“And a deal of good that would have been if I hadn’t anchored,” growled the captain. “There, sir, get to your duties, and let’s have no more of it.”
“But I want to clear my character, captain, before the crew and these two gentlemen.”
“You hold your tongue, my lad, or you’ll be making worse of it.”
“But there’s some mystery about it,” said the mate warmly. “Yes, I can see you nodding and winking, Dellow, and making signs to the men. Here you, Tom Jinks, you said I came on board last night?”
“Yes, me and my mate here rowed you aboard; didn’t we, mate?”
“Ay, ay, lad,” was the reply, and their questioner banged his right fist down into his left palm as if to get rid of some of his rage.
“There,” he cried, “have it your own way, all of you; but you don’t catch me going ashore to dine with a gentleman again.”