“‘What?’ ses the skipper; and I won’t repeat what the mate said.
“‘We fought ’em as long as we could, sir,’ ses Bill, ‘then we was both knocked senseless, and when we came to ourselves we was messed up like this ’ere.’
“What sort o’ men were they?’ asked the skipper, getting excited.
“‘Sailor-men, sir,’ ses Bob, putting in his spoke. ‘Dutchies or Germans, or something o’ that sort.’
“‘Was there one tall man, with a fair beard,’ ses the skipper, getting more and more excited.
“‘Yessir,’ ses Bill, in a surprised sort o’ voice.
“‘Same gang,’ ses the skipper. ‘Same gang as knocked Mr. Fingall about, you may depend upon it. Mr. Fingall, it’s a mercy for you you didn’t get your face blacked too.’
“I thought the mate would ha’ burst. I can’t understand how any man could swell as he swelled without bursting.
“‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ he ses, at last.
“‘Why not?’ ses the skipper, sharply.