“What, sir?”
“Mr. Cottrill.”
“Sir.”
“Put the man Iles in your watch.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Iles, go below and get your chest. Take it forward to the fo’c’s’le. You belong to Mr. Cottrill’s watch.”
“What the hell”—began Stukeley.
“Silence, please.”
“I ain’t goin’ to take no break from you,” said Iles.
“Mr. Cottrill,” said Cammock, “log that man.”