“Well, I vote we try, anyhow,” said Joe, turning on him fiercely. “How did it happen?”
“He came up on deck to speak to me,” said the mate, shortly. “He fancied he heard a cry from the water and jumped up on the side with his hand on the rigging to see. I s’pose his bad foot slipped and he went over before I could move.”
“We’ll cruise about a bit,” said Joe, loudly, turning to the men.
“Are you giving orders here, or am I?” said the mate sternly.
“I am,” said Joe, violently. “It’s our duty to do all we can.” There was a dead silence. Joe, pushing himself in between Ben and the cook, eyed the men eagerly.
“What do you mean by that?” said the mate at last.
“Wot I say,” said Joe, meeting him eye to eye, and thrusting his face close to his.
The mate shrugged his shoulders and walked slowly aft; then, with a regard for appearances which the occasion fully warranted, took the schooner for a little circular tour in the neighbourhood of the skipper’s disappearance.
At daybreak, not feeling the loss quite as much as the men, he went below, and, having looked stealthily round, unlocked the door of the state-room and peeped in. It was almost uncanny, considering the circumstances, to see in the dim light the skipper sitting on the edge of his bunk.
“What the blazes are you doing, dodging about like this?” he burst out, ungratefully.