As he took his seat at the table, Benny fancied his comrades looked unusually sharp at him; but no one made any comment, until the hunger of all had been satisfied, when Keeper Downey asked:
“Didn’t I see one of the ladies whispering to you just before the passengers went on board the tug?”
“Yes, sir,” Benny replied, and then he repeated what she had said, together with the conversation between himself and Sam Hardy.
“Well, did you look up Article 151?”
“Yes, sir; but I couldn’t find out anything by that.”
“I’ll explain it, No. 8, and while I’m doing so remember that I’m the captain of this crew, and my orders are to be obeyed without question.”
“Yes, sir,” Benny said hesitatingly, almost alarmed by this stern reminder of authority.
“After the passengers heard what Fluff had done, they were naturally curious to know why a lad like you was living in such a place, and it became necessary to tell the story. You can hardly wonder that every one of them was eager to show due appreciation of our services, and it was decided among them that it could best be done by making some little provision for the future of you and Fluff C. Foster, although all knew you belong to us, if it so chances that no relatives come forward to claim you.”
“I haven’t got any relatives, except it might be second-hand ones who never so much as heard of me,” Benny interrupted.
“We can almost hope you haven’t, No. 8, for we couldn’t afford to spare you from this ’ere crew,” Joe Cushing said emphatically, and Tom Downey motioned that all remain silent.