What, then, was the meaning of his return, his collected manner, his silent exit from the ship? Had the boatswain, lying hidden, died? The thought fired my blood. Yes, I believed that he had died—that the carpenter had performed his task unmolested without perceiving the corpse—and that, whilst I stood there, the water was rushing into the ship's hold!
I flung myself off the poop, and bounded forward. In the briefest possible time I was peering down the forescuttle.
"Below there!" I called.
There was no answer.
"Below there, I say, boatswain!"
My cry was succeeded by a hollow, thumping sound.
"Below there!" I shouted, for the third time.
I heard the sounds of a foot treading on something that crunched under the tread.
"I am Mr. Royle. Bo'sun, are you below? For God Almighty's sake answer and let me know that you are living."
"Have the skunks cleared out?" responded a voice, and, stumbling as he moved, the boatswain came under the forescuttle and turned up his face.