“A’ right, sir,” said the grinning cook. “Come along, ’Enery.”
With a pale face and a haughty mien, which under other circumstances might have been extremely impressive, Henry, after an entreating glance at the skipper, followed him up the steps.
“’E’s got to go to bed,” said the cook to Sam and Dick, who were standing together. “’E’s been naughty.”
“Who said so?” asked Sam eagerly.
“Skipper,” replied the cook. “’E told me we wos to put him to bed ourselves.”
“You needn’t trouble,” said Henry stiffly; “I’ll go all right.”
“It’s no trouble,” said Sam oilily.
“It’s a pleasure,” said Dick truthfully.
Arrived at the scuttle, Henry halted, and with an assumption of ease he was far from feeling, yawned, and looked round at the night.
“Go to bed,” said Sam reprovingly, and seizing him in his stout arms passed him below to the cook, feet first, as the cook discovered to his cost.