“Well, that what’s I am, sir, and always have been. I never was a sensible chap. But are you sure as it ain’t broke, sir?”
“Certain, Tom.”
“Then who cares? I don’t mind a bit o’ aching, and I’m ready for any game you like. What do you say, sir, to trying to captivate the schooner again?”
“You and I, Tom?”
“Well, it ain’t a very strong force, sir, be it?”
“We must wait for daylight, Tom, and I hope by then some of the lads will be able to pull an oar.”
“Ay, ay, sir, o’ course.”
“I’m ready now,” said Dick Bannock, with his voice sounding husky out of the darkness; and there was silence, broken only by a groan or two for a few minutes, during which Mark, feeling the terrible responsibility of his position, tried to make some plan as to his future proceedings, but only to be compelled to come back to the conclusion that there was nothing to be done but wait for morning.
At one moment insane ideas as to the recapture of the schooner came to trouble him, and this brought to mind what ought to have been his first duty as the officer upon whom the command had suddenly fallen.
“Tom Fillot,” he cried, excitedly, “go round the boat as carefully as you can, and count the men, ourselves included. We ought to be eleven, ought we not?”