"Lower a boat, Mr. Jones!" he said. "Lower a boat at once!"
Cynthia put on her sunbonnet to hide, I thought, her mortification.
"I have given the order, sir," said I. "Better lower two, sir. The men don't want to be captured any more than we do."
"Couldn't wish the stranger any worse luck than to capture them all, Cook included," said the Skipper with a scowl at the men.
"I guess they did their best, Captain," said I, in a louder voice than was necessary, with an eye to a possible future.
"Don't answer me, Mr. Jones! Get a boat down!"
"Lay aft there to lower the dinghy! Stand by!"
"How can you worry Uncle so, Mr. Jones, when you know how——"
Two or three of the men lay aft with alacrity at my order. Among them was Tomkins. He worked with a will.
"Where's Ned Chudleigh?" asked the Skipper.