"Here," answered a thickset lad with a rugged and weather-beaten face.
"Here, SIR!" said Jack sharply, as he check'd off the name.
"Edward Turner?"
"Here, sir," answered a quiet voice on the outer ring of the men.
"Haskell Dwight?"
"Here, sir."
They were all aboard: ten men, exclusive of Jack, Jerry, and Gonzague. When he had finished the list, Jack handed it to Jerry, and taking from his pocket a second paper,—the simple articles he had written,—he knocked the creases out of it with a back-handed rap, and then made a short speech.
"My men," he began, "I don't want to haul you into any game with your eyes shut, so I've drafted articles for you to sign. Of course this whole business is only a joke, but it's got a serious side to it too. You can all see that plain enough; and it's my interest—and yours—to see to it that we don't have to laugh out of the wrong side of our mouths.
"If you come on this cruise you'll sweat for your wages, now let me tell you! I'm not for grinding any man,—most of you know what I am, for you've seen me growing up from a kid,—but the yacht's got to be kept up, and that means that every man-jack aboard has got to keep as neat as a pin and not slight his job.
"On the other hand, you men'll get a lot of experience in handling a larger vessel than you've been used to; you'll have good grub; and you'll see foreign ports. Top o' that, you draw good pay, and keep what clothes you can save.