"No," I said, answering Tom's question, "you've had--"
"Shut that, Jessop!" said the Second Mate, quickly, interrupting me. "I
want to hear what the boy's got to say for himself."
He turned again to Tom.
"You were up at the fore royal," he prompted.
"I carn't say I was, Sir," said Tom, doubtfully. I could see that he had
not gripped the Second Mate's meaning.
"But you were!" said the Second, with some impatience. "It was blowing
adrift, and I sent you up to shove a gasket round it."
"Blowin' adrift, Sir?" said Tom, dully.
"Yes! blowing adrift. Don't I speak plainly?"
The dullness went from Tom's face, suddenly.
"So it was, Sir," he said, his memory returning. "The bloomin' sail got
chock full of wind. It caught me bang in the face."
He paused a moment.
"I believe--" he began, and then stopped once more.
"Go on!" said the Second Mate. "Spit it out!"
"I don't know, Sir," Tom said. "I don't understand--"
He hesitated again.
"That's all I can remember," he muttered, and put his hand up to the
bruise on his forehead, as though trying to remember something.
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