“I did,” said Clark promptly. He had made his position doubly sure by throwing it overboard himself.
“It comes to the same thing, sir,” said Joe sanctimoniously; “my innercence is proved just the same. You’ll find the dog won’t take no ’urt through it, sir. You watch ’im.”
The skipper breathed hard, but made no reply.
“If you don’t believe me, sir, p’raps you’d like to see the plate where ’e licked it?” said Joe. “Give me the plate, Sam.”
He turned to take it, but in place of handing it to him that useful witness dropped it and made hurriedly for the companion-ladder, and by strenuous efforts reached the deck before Joe, although that veracious gentleman, assisted from below by strong and willing arms, made a good second.
TWO OF A TRADE
E’s a nero, that’s wot ’e is, sir,” said the cook, as he emptied a boiler of dirty water overboard.
“A what?” said the skipper.
“A nero,” said the cook, speaking very slowly and distinctly. “A nero in real life, a chap wot, speaking for all for’ard, we’re proud to have aboard along with us.”
“I didn’t know he was much of a swimmer,” said the skipper, glancing curiously at a clumsily-built man of middle age, who sat on the hatch glancing despondently at the side.