“Go down the fo’c’sle and git the case of sail-makers’ needles, then,” said the skipper, “Don’t let anyone see what you’re after, an’ some thread.”
“Well, why couldn’t you let me go in my clothes before you cut ’em up,” moaned Tommy. “I don’t like going up in this blanket. They’ll laugh at me.”
“You go at once!” thundered the skipper, and, turning his back on him, whistled softly, and began to arrange the pieces of cloth.
“Laugh away, my lads,” he said cheerfully, as an uproarious burst of laughter greeted the appearance of Tommy on deck. “Wait a bit.”
He waited himself for nearly twenty minutes, at the end of which time Tommy, treading on his blanket, came flying down the companion-ladder, and rolled into the cabin.
“There ain’t a needle aboard the ship,” he said solemnly, as he picked himself up and rubbed his head. “I’ve looked everywhere.”
“What?” roared the skipper, hastily concealing the pieces of cloth. “Here, Ted! Ted!”
“Ay, ay, sir!” said Ted, as he came below.
“I want a sail-maker’s needle,” said the skipper glibly. “I’ve got a rent in this skirt.”
“I broke the last one yesterday,” said Ted, with an evil grin.