“No, sir, please you, I never took it, and never put it where they say it was found,” answered Jim, boldly.
“Appearances are sadly against thee, James Pulley,” observed the captain, with more sorrow than anger in his tone. “This matter must be investigated.”
“I am sure that Jim speaks the truth, sir,” I exclaimed, unable to contain myself. “Somebody else stole the sugar and put it in his chest.”
The crew had gathered aft, and two or three looked thunder-clouds at me as I spoke.
“Thine assertion needs proof,” observed the captain. “Was thy cask of sugar open, Andrews?”
“No, sir, tightly headed up,” answered Andrews.
“Then it must have been forced open by some iron instrument,” said the captain. “Bring it aft here.”
The empty keg was brought.
“I thought so,” remarked the captain. “An axe was used to prise it open. Did any one see an axe in the hands of James Pulley?”
There was no reply for some time. At last, Ben Grimes, one of the men who had always been most hostile to Jim and me, said, “I thinks I seed Jim Pulley going along the deck with what looked mighty like the handle of an axe sticking out from under his jacket.”