No answer came, but there was a question from out of the darkness.
“Say, messmates, hear that?”
“Tom Fillot.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“Where are we?”
“Dunno, sir. Here, I think.”
“But where is here, stupid?”
“That’s a true word, sir. I am stupid—who’s this?”
“Dick Bannock, AB, it is,” said the familiar voice of that seaman.
“Know where we are, mate?”