"How are things below?" asked the mate.
"Look!" the captain answered, with a sweep of his hand.
Tab bent down and peered into the dismantled cabin.
"The devil!" he cried in dismay.
"Precisely—but it might be worse," returned Jack; "but by George, Tab!" he burst out with sudden vehemence, "I—I'm glad I haven't got all this to do over again. You don't know—can't imagine the strain of this sort of thing."
"Does your conscience get up like a cat with the wind?" laughed Jerry.
"No, Tab," Jack answered soberly, "but the men, you know, and thinking I took them into this when I'd no right to. Oh, rot! No matter, only I'm jolly glad I ran off with the Merle before I realized all this. I couldn't bring myself to do it again for"—
"Come on deck, Jacko," Tab said, after a brief silence in which with eyes cast down awkwardly he had waited for the captain to continue. "I know how you feel, but thank the Lord there's work to be done, and we'll fight through all right. Besides, Gonzague's forward getting a ration of some sort. We can't afford to miss that."
He put out his hand, and Jack grasped it appreciatively, with a half-conscious thanksgiving for the comfort of a friend.
"Right you are!" the captain said heartily. "We're both of us ready for a feed, I fancy."