"But he must be, the skipper said he was to stand by the engines."
"'E's not there," repeated the man.
"See if he's in the alleyway."
The man departed but returned with the information that McPhulach was not in the alleyway. Moreover, nobody on board had seen him since the landing party left.
"Fetch up Mr. Sims," said the mate.
Mr. Sims was the second-engineer, a melancholy man with watery eyes, a pallid face, and chronic dyspepsia, who never mixed with the other officers or uttered a word if he could possibly help it. He was, too, an indifferent engineer; but, as McPhulach had once said, the biggest success as a nonentity he had ever met.
"How long will it take us to get under way?" inquired the mate when Mr. Sims appeared.
"Half an hour, may be."
"What!" ejaculated Mr. Dykes.
Mr. Sims nodded in confirmation of his statement.