“Tell the orderly to pass the word to the marine corporal to bring Jordan here,” Dave ordered, after a dazed instant.
That order was quickly obeyed. Seaman Jordan, shuffling his feet, his eyes roving shiftily, nevertheless maintained a half-defiant, half-injured air.
“Jordan,” demanded Dave, without a moment’s waiting, as the man was placed before him, “why did you drop this bottle overboard?”
“I didn’t, sir.”
“But Ferguson says you did.”
“He’s a liar, sir.”
“Where did you get this bottle?” Dave rapped out.
“I didn’t get it, sir; I never saw it before.”
“Have you any more of these bottles?”
“Naturally not, sir.”