“What’s the matter?” inquired Dan quickly.
“It’s all found out,” said Billy.
“What!” cried the crew simultaneously.
“Leastways, it will be,” said the youth, correcting himself. “You’d better chuck him overboard while you’ve got time. I heard the cap’n tell the mate as he was coming down in the fo’c’sle to-morrow morning to look round. He’s going to have it painted.”
“This,” said Dan, in the midst of a painful pause, “this is what comes of helping a fellow-creature. What’s to be done?”
“Tell the skipper the fo’c’sle don’t want painting,” suggested Billy.
The agonised old seaman, carefully putting down his saucer of tea, cuffed his head spitefully.
“It’s a smooth sea,” said he, looking at the perturbed countenance of Private Smith, “an there’s a lot of shipping about. If I was a deserter, sooner than be caught, I would slip overboard to-night with a lifebelt and take my chance.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Mr. Smith, with much decision.
“You wouldn’t? Not if you was quite near another ship?” cooed Dan.