“No, sir,” said Mr. Prowle.
“How did he get aboard here?”
Captain Nugent answered the question himself. “I was crimped by you and your drunken bullies,” he said, sternly.
“How did this man get aboard here? repeated Captain Hardy, ignoring him.
“He must have concealed 'imself somewhere, sir,” said the mate; “this is the first I've seen of him.”
“A stowaway?” said the captain, bending his brows. “He must have got some of the crew to hide him aboard. You'd better make a clean breast of it, my lad. Who are your confederates?”
Captain Nugent shook with fury. The second mate had turned away, with his hand over his mouth and a suspicious hunching of his shoulders, while the steward, who had been standing by, beat a hasty retreat and collapsed behind the chart-room.
“If you don't put me ashore,” said Nugent, restraining his passion by a strong effort, “I'll take proceedings against you for crimping me, the moment I reach port. Get a boat out and put me aboard that smack.”
He pointed as he spoke to a smack which was just on their beam, making slowly for the harbour.
“When you've done issuing orders,” said the captain, in an indifferent voice, “perhaps you'll explain what you are doing aboard my crag.”