The mate snickered. “You’ll get the same as the others—biscuits and water.” He snickered again. “That’s all the food that’s left after what you two boobs done to the galley.”
“What we did!” they chorused, indignantly.
“Yes, you!” the mate snarled, backing into the passageway. “And don’t try to come it over me with that innocent-angels business.”
Sandy and Jerry exchanged glances of amazement, and then, again, they burst out laughing.
“Boy, oh, boy,” Jerry breathed, to the annoyance of the mate, “when our Mr. Briggs tells a story, he sticks to it!”
The mate’s mouth flew open for an angry reply, but then, it just remained agape and not a sound issued forth.
The mate seemed to be rising in the air, towering over the two youths in the cabin. He lost his balance and fell. His mouth still yawning and his hands frantically clawing for a hold on the smooth steel deck, he began to slide toward them.
Then the boys were hurled backward against the bulkhead. They struck it with a crash and slithered to the floor, all but stunned.
For one long dreadful moment, it seemed to all three of them that the James Kennedy would never return from that sickening roll to starboard. There was that bottomless instant when it appeared that the heavily burdened vessel would never stop heeling over until it had turned turtle and plunged to the bottom.
Then, it stopped.