"I guessed 'twere somethin' pretty bad, when I saw the Old Man come
forrard. 'ow did it 'appen?"
He looked round at the lot of us sitting there silent and smoking.
"No one knows," I said, and glanced at Stubbins. I caught him eyeing me,
doubtfully.
After a moment's silence, Plummer spoke again.
"I 'eard 'im screech, when I was at ther wheel. 'e must 'ave got 'urt up
aloft."
Stubbins struck a match and proceeded to relight his pipe.
"How d'yer mean?" he asked, speaking for the first time.
"'ow do I mean? Well, I can't say. Maybe 'e jammed 'is fingers between
ther parrel an' ther mast."
"What about 'is swearin' at ther Second Mate? Was that 'cause 'e'd
jammed 'is fingers?" put in Quoin.
"I never 'eard about that," said Plummer. "'oo 'eard 'im?
"I should think heverybody in ther bloomin' ship heard him," Stubbins
answered. "All ther same, I hain't sure he _was_ swearin' at ther Second
Mate. I thought at first he'd gone dotty an' was cussin' him; but
somehow it don't seem likely, now I come to think. It don't stand to
reason he should go to cuss ther man. There was nothin' to go cussin'
about. What's more, he didn't seem ter be talkin' down to us on deck--
what I could make hout. 'sides, what would he want ter go talkin' to
ther Second about his pay-day?"
He looked across to where I was sitting. Jock, who was smoking, quietly,
on the chest next to me, took his pipe slowly out from between his
teeth.
"Ye're no far oot, Stubbins, I'm thinkin'. Ye're no far oot," he said,
nodding his head.
Stubbins still continued to gaze at me.
"What's your idee?" he said, abruptly.
It may have been my fancy, but it seemed to me that there was something
deeper than the mere sense the question conveyed.