“Eh, what? Where?” growled the sailor, excitedly. “Bring a light? Where’s the light?”
He knew the next moment, for the door was burst open with a crash and a party of men headed by an officer in uniform rushed into the room, filling it with light, for three of them bore ship’s lanthorns, and Jack found that the warning had come too late, for he was seized by three men before he could even think of resisting, and held tightly with his back to the wall. “Only one, my lads?” cried the officer.
“Not sure yet, sir,” replied one of the men, who ducked down to bring the light of the lanthorn he carried beneath the bed, while another of the party examined the cupboard, and a companion peeped up the chimney.
“No, sir; only one, sir,” said a man who seemed to be a warrant officer; “but here’s a nipper on the bed.”
“I thought there had been more,” said the leader. “Now, then, my lad,” he continued, to the sailor, “it’s of no use to kick against it. How many mates had you with you?”
“Ne’er a one,” growled Jack, surlily. “What do you want with me?”
“Oh, you’ll see soon enough. Come along. Mind you don’t lose him, my lads.”
“Never fear, sir,” came in chorus, while the boy upon seeing that his new friend was in trouble slipped off the bed, ran to Jack’s side, and grasped his hand tightly.
“You can’t press me,” cried Jack, now growing angry, and, as if obeying an instinct which made him feel it to be his duty to protect the boy, drawing him close to his side.
“Can’t we, my lad?” said the officer, laughing. “Why, we have pressed you.”