“Here, you two! This way,” said a severe voice; and the stern-looking master came up. “This way. The captain wants a word with both of you.”
“The captain?” began Don, as his old trouble flashed into his mind.
“That will do. Now then, this way,” said the master sternly; and he led them to the quarter-deck, where the captain was standing, with a couple of the officers by his side, and, a little distance in front, Ramsden, the sinister-looking seaman who, since the night they were pressed, had always seemed to bear the two Bristolians ill-will.
Don and Jem saluted, and stood before their officer, who looked them over searchingly, his eyes resting on theirs in a fierce, penetrating way that was far from pleasant.
Then, turning from them contemptuously, he signed to Ramsden to come forward.
“Now,” he said sharply, “repeat what you told me just now.”
“Yes, sir. I had to go below yes’day evening when, as I was going along ’tween the ’ammocks, I hears the word desert and I was that took aback, sir, I—”
“Ah! You are the sort of man who would be took aback on hearing such a word,” said the first lieutenant, with a sneer.
“Yes, sir,” said Ramsden.
“Let him speak,” said the captain, scowling to hide a smile.