"Well," I said, "I don't know about all that. I'm a bit inclined to think Tom's yarn is the truth."
"How do you make that hout?" Stubbins asked, unbelievingly. "There haint nothin' like enough wind."
"What about the place on his forehead?" I inquired, in turn. "How are you going to explain that?"
"I 'spect he knocked himself there when he slipped," he answered.
"Likely 'nuffli," agreed old Jaskett, who was sitting smoking on a chest near by.
"Well, you're both a damn long way out of it!" Tom chipped in, pretty warm. "I wasn't asleep; an' the sail did bloomin' well hit me."
"Don't you be impertinent, young feller," said Jaskett.
I joined in again.
"There's another thing, Stubbins," I said. "The gasket Tom was hanging by, was on the after side of the yard. That looks as if the sail might have flapped it over? If there were wind enough to do the one, it seems to me that it might have done the other."
"Do you mean that it was hunder ther yard, or hover ther top?" he asked.