“How was that?” inquired Jim, not without malice aforethought.
“Well, you see, it was this a way, Skipper,” explained old Pete shamefacedly, “I seen this peculiar object or two in the forecastle, and I says to myself, ‘The skipper ought to know about this,’ so I jumps up and starts to report it to you——”
“I had the same thought, sor,” cut in the boy.
“Yes, and he got in my way going up the ladder, and I fell and cut my leg.” He showed the place to Jim, and the latter, though trying hard not to laugh at the old chap’s explanations of his scare, was justly indignant when he saw that he was hurt.
“Those beggars must be hiding here,” he said. “They certainly haven’t got aft. We will soon root ’em out and I’ll give them something to remember this performance by as long as they live.”
Then began a systematic search of the forecastle. Of course they did not find Jo, for, as we know, he was safely hidden on deck, but Tom was in the forecastle, and was bound to be discovered sooner or later in so small a space.
“Look under the bunks on that side, boys,” said Jim, “I’ll take this.”
“Aye, aye, sir-sor,” was the reply.
But after a most careful search, turning over blankets and bedding, no one was found. Jim swung the lantern under the dark ladder, but no one was there. Where could they be? They must be within a few feet of them and yet they could not see them.