“Now, coxswain, speak out. The first man?”
“Adam,” whispered Bob to Mark, at whose elbow he now stood, and Mark jerked back his elbow into the boy’s chest.
“Well, sir, who was the first man?” cried the captain. “Beg pardon, your honour,” said Joe Dance, gruffly; “it was down in the fo’c’sle.”
“I know that, sir, but I want to know the names.”
A faint sound arose as if several men had drawn a deep breath.
“Do you hear me, Dance?” cried the captain.
“Oh yes, your honour.”
“He won’t tell tales of his messmates,” said Bob, with his lips close to Mark’s ear.
“Silence, Mr Howlett!” cried the captain, sternly. “Now, Dance, the names?”
“Beg pardon, your honour, but there was only one dip a-going in the lantern, and it didn’t give light enough to tell which was your right hand and which was your left.”