"Yes, sir," replied Peter; "more than a pailful of them. The one that nearly threw you must have wriggled on to the deck."
"What do you think of this eel, sir?" asked Flemming.
"It's certainly of a decent size," said Mr. Armitage, turning the eel over with his foot. "Ready for supper? I am."
"Roche is cook, sir," announced the Patrol Leader. "He's in the galley now cleaning fish, I think."
"They're cleaned already and in the frying-pan," shouted the cook, who had overheard the dialogue between Mr. Armitage and Stratton. "Get the gear out on the table, Alan, and everything will be ready in a quarter of an hour."
By the time the anchor-lamp was lighted and hoisted, and everything on deck made snug for the night, supper was announced.
"How about the eel?" asked Flemming. "Where is it? Has anyone taken it below?"
No one had seen it during the last ten minutes. A search on the foredeck produced no satisfactory result.
"P'r'aps the thing wasn't dead after all," suggested Warkworth.
"It was as dead as a door nail," declared Flemming, somewhat disappointed at the loss of his trophy. "Did any careless blighter kick it overboard, I wonder?"