Hereupon he glances at me from the corners of his eyes and shakes his head:
"Your face is bloody, Martin, are ye hurt?"
"My belly's empty, Adam."
"Why, I guessed as much, shipmate, Godby's bringing ye the wherewithal to fill it. In the meantime I'll free you o' your bilboes awhile, though I must lock you up again that you may be found snug and secure in the morning." So saying he took a key from his pocket and therewith set me at liberty.
"Ah, Martin," quoth he, as I stretched myself, "why must ye go a-raising of tumults above deck under our very noses? Here's mighty ill plight you've got yourself into, and here's me a-wondering how I am to get ye out again. Here's been murder done, and, look'ee, this coxcombly captain hath got it into his skull that you're the murderer—aye, and what's worse, every soul aboard likewise save only Godby and myself."
"And my lady!" says I.
"True, shipmate, true! She spoke for ye, as I guessed she might."
"And how should you guess this, Adam?"
"By adding one and one, Martin. But even so, comrade, even though she stand by you—what can she do, or Godby and I for that matter, 'gainst a whole ship's company crazed wi' panic fear—fear, aye and small wonder, Martin! Death is bad enough, murder's worse, but for three hearty fellows to disappear and leave no trace—"
"Aye, but was there no trace, Adam?"