The foreman spoke.
"Don't you think, captain, you--might swallow a gnat?"
"I don't wish to set myself up as a superior person, but, under the circumstances, I'm afraid I can't."
"Quite so. Now we know where we are." Mr. Longsett composed himself in his chair; planting his hands against his sides he stuck out his elbows; he screwed up his mouth. "It just shows you how one man can play skittles with eleven others."
The captain was silently contemptuous.
"I really doubt if it matters." It was Mr. Moss who said it; he whispered an addition into the captain's ear: "If the young scamp isn't hung to-day he'll be hung to-morrow."
The captain ignored the whisper; his reply was uttered with sufficient clearness.
"Perhaps, sir, your sense of duty is not a high one."
The eleven eyed each other, and the table, and vacancy; a spirit of depression seemed to be settling down upon them all. Old Parkes, with elongated visage, addressed a melancholy inquiry to no one in particular. "What's us sitting here for?"
Jacob responded--"That's what I should like to know, George. Perhaps it's because a gentleman's made up his mind to ruin a poor young lad for life."