“You hold your tongue, and don’t be sarcy, Neb,” growled Bob. “I’m a-beginning to see now. Mr Dale’s right. If he warn’t, how could we be shut up down here with our heads as thick as if we’d been having ’em stuffed? That’s it, sir, though I don’t half understand what you say. Then we’ve all been hocussed, and Jarette’s got the upper hand again?”
“Yes, Bob, I’m afraid so.”
“Well, that’s ugly, my lad; but there’s no help for it now, and the sooner we get to work and take the ship again, I suppose, the better.”
“Yes, Bob,” I said. “Of course.”
“Very well, my lad, then here goes. I’m glad it’s how you say, for I was beginning to think I’d got crazed, and been shut up for being violent. That’s a comfort anyhow, for I don’t hold with a man going off his head.”
“Then it’s all right, messmate?” growled Dumlow.
“Right as it can be in a place like this, matey. Yer can’t breathe, nor you can’t see, and—well now, that’s queer. You seem to ha’ set my head working again, Mr Dale, sir; and I recklect sittin’ in the s’loon eating our dinner arter you gents had done, and then coming over all pleasant and comfble like, and then I don’t seem to ’member no more till I woke up down here.”
“And that knocking we heard must be some of the others,” I cried excitedly.
“That’s sartain, sir.”
“Is there any one else here beside us four?”