“Hang your cask! I’ll have it thrown overboard.”
“Oh, I say, you mustn’t do that,” cried the American, with some slight display of energy; “the water would get in through those holes bored in the top, and spoil the contents.”
“What’s that to me, sir?” cried the captain.
“Murder number three, because I have warned you not to do it in the presence of witnesses.”
“Murder!” cried the captain, looking startled. “Why, what’s in it?”
“Only my servant.”
“What!” came in a chorus.
“My boy—my servant,” said the American coolly; “and he ought to be let out now, or he’ll be smothered. I found it very hot down there, sitting among the boxes and chests. I dunno how he finds it, shut up in a cask.”
“I say, gentlemen,” said the captain, with a gasp; “is this fellow an escaped lunatic—is he mad?”
“Not I,” said the American, answering for himself; “I was, though, down there when I got in.”