One of the latter was partly open, revealing a hairy-faced man lying fully dressed on a bunk, with a heap of blankets covering him from his feet to the point of his chin. Apparently he was still wanting additional warmth, for a coal fire blazed in a brass-lined fireplace—the skylight was shut, and, until Broadmayne opened it, also the door.
Cap'n Silas Porthoustoc's astonishment at the sight of two saturated strangers was quite equal to that of the Sub and his companion, when they caught a partial view of the old man "stewing" in the hot and unpleasantly close air.
"Who are ye, an' what you'm wantin'?" inquired Cap'n Silas, embellishing his inquiry with half a dozen totally different adjectives.
"It's all right, Captain," replied Broadmayne soothingly, "we've just swum off from the vessel brought up ahead of you."
"Desarters, eh?"
"Sort of," admitted the Sub.
"An' you'm thinkin' the Fairy is a nursery for cut-an'-run sailormen?" rejoined Captain Porthoustoc. "You'm come tu wrong ship, you'm have. Best swim back along 'fore there's trouble."
"Look here, Captain," began Broadmayne firmly.
Before he could say more, the skipper of the Fairy thrust back the sliding-door of his bunk and rolled out, bringing with him an avalanche of blankets, a heavy pilot coat, and an oilskin.
"Wot's this?" he demanded. "Threatenin' me in my own cabin, aboard my very own ship?"