“Do you mean to say, mate,” growled Dick Bannock, “that the Yanks got out through the hold where the niggers was?”
“Yes; that’s it.”
“Oh, very well; that’s it, then. Stow all that talking, mate, and let’s have a go at ’em again. Strikes me we’d better drive ’em overboard this time.”
“Ay, but then they’d come up through the keel or in at the hawse-holes,” growled Tom Fillot.
“Silence!” said Mark, sharply. “Who else is down here?”
“There’s me,” said Stepney.
“Fillot, Stepney, Bannock, and the black, isn’t it?”
“Ay, ay, sir. You’re here, Soup?”
“Ay, ay, sir,” came in the negro’s familiar voice.
“Anybody wounded?” asked Mark, anxiously.