“It’s about the ’erring, sir,” said Joe, twisting his cap between his hands.
“Well?” roared the skipper again.
“It’s gone, sir,” said Joe, in bereaved accents.
“You mean you’ve thrown it away, you infernal rascal!” bellowed the skipper.
“No, sir,” said Joe.
“Ah! I s’pose it walked up on deck and jumped overboard,” said the mate.
“No, sir,” said Joe softly. “The dog ate it, sir.”
The skipper swung round in his seat and regarded him open-mouthed.
“The—dog—ate—it?” he repeated.
“Yes, sir; Clark saw ’im do it—didn’t you, Clark?”