“My name’s Ben Stubbs. Who the dickens are you?” was the bluff reply.
“Lieutenant Chapin,” was the calm reply.
The result was astonishing.
“Well, I’ll be double horn-swoggled,” shouted the same bluff voice that had framed the question and the next minute there was a splash and loud sputtering sounds of indignation.
“Man overboard!” cried the Tarantula’s lookout.
“You black landlubbers! Upsetting me overboard and trying to drown me, eh? Ef I had you at a rope’s end I’d make you walk fancy,” came over the water in tones running the gamut of indignation.
By this time the boys and the others were on deck and as they heard and amazedly recognized the sputtering voice there came from them a delighted hail of:
“Ben Stubbs!”
“Come aboard!”
“Sure I will if this consarned contraption of a canoe we’re in wull hold me an’ my voice, but every time I speak it tips over,” was the indignant reply.