“Halloa!  What do you want?” inquired a sea-man, coming out of the galley.

“All right, Bill,” said the skipper, in a low voice.  “Don’t take any notice of me.”

“Eh?” said the seaman, starting.  “Good lor’!  What ha’ you——­”

“Shut up!” said the skipper, fiercely; and, walking to the forecastle, placed his hand on the scuttle and descended with studied slowness.  As he reached the floor the perturbed face of Bill blocked the opening.

“Had an accident, cap’n?” he inquired, respectfully.

“No,” snapped the skipper.  “Come down here—­quick!  Don’t stand up there attracting attention.  Do you want the whole town round you?  Come down!”

“I’m all right where I am,” said Bill, backing hastily as the skipper, putting a foot on the ladder, thrust a black and furious face close to his.

“Clear out, then,” hissed the skipper.  “Go and send the mate to me.  Don’t hurry.  And if anybody noticed me come aboard and should ask you who I am, say I’m a pal of yours.”

The seaman, marvelling greatly, withdrew, and the skipper, throwing himself on a locker, wiped a bit of grit out of his eye and sat down to wait for the mate.  He was so long in coming that he waxed impatient, and ascending a step of the ladder again peeped on to the deck.  The first object that met his gaze was the figure of the mate leaning against the side of the ship with a wary eye on the scuttle.

“Come here,” said the skipper.

“Anything wrong?” inquired the mate, retreating a couple of paces in disorder.

“Come—­here!” repeated the skipper.

The mate advanced slowly, and in response to an imperative command from the skipper slowly descended and stood regarding him nervously.

“Yes; you may look,” said the skipper, with sudden ferocity.  “This is all your doing.  Where are you going?”

He caught the mate by the coat as he was making for the ladder, and hauled him back again.

“You’ll go when I’ve finished with you,” he said, grimly.  “Now, what do you mean by it?  Eh?  What do you mean by it?”

“That’s all right,” said the mate, in a soothing voice.  “Don’t get excited.”

“Look at me!” said the skipper.  “All through your interfering.  How dare you go making inquiries about me?”

“Me?” said the mate, backing as far as possible.  “Inquiries?”

“What’s it got to do with you if I stay out all night?” pursued the skipper.

“Nothing,” said the other, feebly.

“What did you go to the police about me for, then?” demanded the skipper.

“Me?” said the mate, in the shrill accents of astonishment.  “Me?  I didn’t go to no police about you.  Why should I?”

“Do you mean to say you didn’t report my absence last night to the police?” said the skipper, sternly.

“Cert’nly not,” said the mate, plucking up courage.  “Why should I?  If you like to take a night off it’s nothing to do with me.  I ’ope I know my duty better.  I don’t know what you’re talking about.”