"Well, you tried to leave us rather suddenly," said Mr. Pertell. "Don't go trying that again, Jack—at least until we finish making the pictures," he went on with a whimsical smile. "You're in too many important scenes to be lost that way."
"I haven't any fancy that way myself," said Jack, who seemed little the worse for his unexpected bath.
"How did it happen?" asked Captain Brisco of his mate, though it seemed as though he had been near enough to have seen for himself.
"Why, I was standing near the rail," Jack explained, "talkin' to Mr. Lacomb, here," and he indicated the strange man, "when, all at once the ship gives a lurch, and—well, I went over, that's all I guess," and he looked at Lacomb, as though to get him to confirm the account.
"Yes that's right," said the other. "I—I tried to grab him, but I was too late. I nearly went over myself," he added, grimly.
"Yes," assented the old salt, "you did," and he shot a look at the other.
Did Alice fancy it, or did Lacomb wince, and shrink back? And did a look pass between him and Captain Brisco—a look full of meaning?
Alice was puzzling over these questions in her own mind, when the helmsman spoke.
"It wasn't my fault," he said. "I was steering all right, but Captain Brisco came and spoke to me and handed me a paper. I took one hand off the wheel, and the——"
"No one has said it was your fault," broke in the commander quickly. "I was giving you a copy of the sailing orders for the day. I wouldn't have bothered you if I had known a puff of wind and a big wave were coming along together, to snatch the wheel out of your grip. But it wasn't your fault. However, no harm is done. You had better get below, Mr. Jepson, and put on some dry clothes. Mr. Lacomb will stand watch until you feel all right again."