‘No man, sir; I’ll swear it,’ answered Mr. Cocker.
‘Any of you young gentlemen been aloft?’ said Keeling, addressing the midshipmen.
‘No, sir,’ answered one of them, ‘neither aloft nor yet abaft the mizzen rigging for the last half-hour.’
The old chap took the lamp out of Mr. Cocker’s hand and looked under the gratings, then got upon them and stared into the gig, as though dissatisfied with the earlier inspection of these hiding-places.
‘Most extraordinary!’ he exclaimed; ‘did some madman do it, and then jump overboard?’
He looked over the sides to port and starboard. The quarter galleries were small, with bumpkins for the main-braces stretching out from them. They were untenanted.
‘What was the man’s name, Mr. Cocker?’
‘Simpson, sir.’
‘Was he unpopular forward, do you know? Had he quarrelled lately with any man?’
‘I will inquire, sir.’