"Oh!" said Prowse from within. "Look here, you mutineers, is Simpkins in this?"
"No," said the geologist, who showed a little humour occasionally, "he's out of it. He tried to rescue you, so we hung him. But he came to again, and is now at the wheel. What about that sextant?"
"I ain't got no sextant," said Prowse sulkily. He recognised it was no use kicking, and the rum was dying out of his aching head.
"Then let's go on deck," said the men of science. "What's the use of talking to him."
"Oh, please," said the subdued skipper; but they paid no attention, and returned to Simpkins.
At various intervals during the day Prowse made more and more pitiful appeals to be let out. But as the weather was clear and bright, Simpkins and his "overwhelming odds" were at work on deck, and paid little or no attention. Simpkins now did not take his line from the skipper, but, feeling that the command was in commission, adopted the manner of the sergeant-instructor at a gymnasium.
"Now, if a couple or four of you gentlemen would keep the pumps going," he urged from his station at the wheel, "we should get along a deal better. And if you, sir, would come and take the wheel agin for two shakes of a lamb's tail, I don't see no reason I shouldn't loose the upper main-topsail."
So the geologist took the wheel while Simpkins went aloft and loosed the upper main-topsail.
"Supposing you wanted to have less sail presently," said the astronomer to Simpkins, when the topsail was set, "what would you do?"
"You gents would 'ave to 'elp stow it," said Simpkins.