Then came a splashing and a repetition of the cry for help, but this time from the bottom of the boat.
“What has he done wrong?” said Bob Hampton. “Want us to chuck you in again?”
“Oh, help!” cried Walters piteously.
“What, have you took him aboard?” said a sneering voice overhead. “Better let him drown. He isn’t worth the biscuit and water he’ll want.”
“Oh, only wait!” cried Walters, rising up to his knees.
“Wait,” snarled Jarette. “Yes, you cur, I will with one of the shot-guns if you ever come near my ship again. And you, Berriman, and you, Brymer, take my warning; I’ve given you your chance, so take it. If you hang about near here I’ll have the signal-gun loaded and sink you, so be out of sight by daylight. Now push off before you get something thrown over to go through the bottom of the boat.”
There was a low whispering close by me, and then I could just make out the doctor’s figure as he stood up.
“Stop,” he shouted. “Mr Jarette, we are not all here.”
“What? Why, who is left behind?”
“Mr Denning.”