“If he only knew how much you three lads have contributed to his downfall,” commented Inspector Burton, as “Black George” was led away, “he would feel even worse.”
Ensign Warwick approached.
“Look here,” he said, kindly, “you fellows have had a pretty strenuous time of it. It’s a mild night, and I’m going to keep Folwell aboard here, bed him down in a hammock, where I can watch him. Do you fellows object to turning in on the trawler?”
“Not at all,” said Jack. “We slept there before, you know.”
“Yes, I know. That’s why I proposed it now.
Well, if you want to turn in now, I’ve got the boat ready to lift you over.”
Amid a hail of “good-nights” the three chums and Inspector Burton were rowed to the trawler. Once aboard, they lost no time in straightening the bunks and tumbling in.
“Way past midnight now,” said Bob, examining his watch. “We’ve got only a few hours. I, for one, am not going to waste them in undressing.”
And, merely kicking off his shoes, he tumbled over on his berth and almost immediately fell asleep. The others followed suit.