[Illustration:  “He stepped to the side and looked over.”]

“Put back,” cried Nugent, waving up at him.  “Put back.”

“What on earth are you doing on my ship?” inquired the astonished Hardy.

“Put me ashore,” cried Nugent, imperiously; “don’t waste time talking.  D’ye hear?  Put me ashore.”

The amazement died out of Hardy’s face and gave way to an expression of anger.  For a time he regarded the red and threatening visage of Captain Nugent in silence, then he turned to the second officer.

“This man is not one of the crew, Mr. Prowle?” he said, in a puzzled voice.

“No, sir,” said Mr. Prowle.

“How did he get aboard here?”

Captain Nugent answered the question himself.  “I was crimped by you and your drunken bullies,” he said, sternly.

“How did this man get aboard here? repeated Captain Hardy, ignoring him.

“He must have concealed ’imself somewhere, sir,” said the mate; “this is the first I’ve seen of him.”

“A stowaway?” said the captain, bending his brows.  “He must have got some of the crew to hide him aboard.  You’d better make a clean breast of it, my lad.  Who are your confederates?”

Captain Nugent shook with fury.  The second mate had turned away, with his hand over his mouth and a suspicious hunching of his shoulders, while the steward, who had been standing by, beat a hasty retreat and collapsed behind the chart-room.

“If you don’t put me ashore,” said Nugent, restraining his passion by a strong effort, “I’ll take proceedings against you for crimping me, the moment I reach port.  Get a boat out and put me aboard that smack.”

He pointed as he spoke to a smack which was just on their beam, making slowly for the harbour.

“When you’ve done issuing orders,” said the captain, in an indifferent voice, “perhaps you’ll explain what you are doing aboard my crag.”

Captain Nugent gazed at the stern of the fast-receding smack; Sunwich was getting dim in the distance and there was no other sail near.  He began to realize that he was in for a long voyage.

“I awoke this morning and found myself in a bunk in vow fo’c’s’le,” he said, regarding Hardy steadily.  “However I got there is probably best known to yourself.  I hold you responsible for the affair.”

“Look here my lad,” said Captain Hardy, in patronizing tones, “I don’t know how you got aboard my ship and I don’t care.  I am willing to believe that it was not intentional on your part, but either the outcome of a drunken freak or else a means of escaping from some scrape you have got into ashore.  That being so, I shall take a merciful view of it, and if you behave yourself and make yourself useful you will not hear anything more of it.  He has something the look of a seafaring man, Mr. Prowle.  See what you can make of him.”

“Come along with me, my lad,” said the grinning Mr. Prowle, tapping him on the shoulder.