“Yes, sir. These ’ere others too, sir.”
“What others?” cried the captain, and Rumsey, looking anxiously around, found for the first time that he was alone.
“The lads as was here just now, sir—six on us.”
“Oh, indeed!” said the skipper sarcastically, and raising his cap he gave his rough hair a rub. “Let me see; when did I give you leave to go ashore?”
“No, sir; not you, sir. Dr Robson, sir.”
“Oh, I see,” said the skipper.
This was all said loud enough for Rodd and Uncle Paul to hear, and Rodd began to grin as he looked at his uncle, whose face assumed a perplexed aspect, one which increased to uneasiness as the captain came up to them at once.
“Just a word, sir,” he said. “Did you order these men to go ashore?”
“Oh no,” cried Uncle Paul. “One of them came up to me, asking if I had any objections to their going ashore, and I said, not the least. I supposed, of course, that they had got leave from you.”
“Of course, sir. Bless ’em for a set of artful babies! They aren’t learned discipline yet. You, Rumsey, go and tell your messmates that if they try that game again with me they’ll stand a fine chance of not going ashore for the rest of the voyage.”