So we went downstairs into the store-room and Polynesia told us to keep quite still and listen. This we did. And presently we heard from a dark corner of the hold the distinct sound of someone snoring. “Ah, I thought so,” said Polynesia. “It’s a man—and a big one. Climb in there, both of you, and haul him out. It sounds as though he were behind that barrel—Gosh! We seem to have brought half of Puddleby with us. Anyone would think we were a penny ferry-boat. Such cheek! Haul him out.” So Bumpo and I lit a lantern and climbed over the stores. And there, behind the barrel, sure enough, we found an enormous bearded man fast asleep with a well-fed look on his face. We woke him up. “Washamarrer?” he said sleepily. It was Ben Butcher, the able seaman. Polynesia spluttered like an angry fire-cracker. “This is the last straw,” said she. “The one man in the world we least wanted. Shiver my timbers, what cheek!” “Would it not be, advisable,” suggested Bumpo, “while the varlet is still sleepy, to strike him on the head with some heavy object and push him through a port-hole into the sea?” “No. We’d get into trouble,” said Polynesia. “We’re not in Jolliginki now, you know—worse luck!—Besides, there never was a port-hole big enough to push that man through. Bring him upstairs to the Doctor.” So we led the man to the wheel where he respectfully touched his cap to the Doctor. “Another stowaway, Sir,” said Bumpo smartly. I thought the poor Doctor would have a fit. “Good morning, Captain,” said the man. “Ben Butcher, able seaman, at your service. I knew you’d need me, so I took the liberty of stowing away—much against my conscience. But I just couldn’t bear to see you poor landsmen set out on this voyage without a single real seaman to help you. You’d never have got home alive if I hadn’t come—Why look at your mainsail, Sir—all loose at the throat. First gust of wind come along, and away goes your canvas overboard—Well, it’s all right now I’m here. We’ll soon get things in shipshape.” “No, it isn’t all right,” said the Doctor, “it’s all wrong. And I’m not at all glad to see you. I told you in Puddleby I didn’t want you. You had no right to come.” “But Captain,” said the able seaman, “you can’t sail this ship without me. You don’t understand navigation. Why, look at the compass now: you’ve let her swing a point and a half off her course. It’s madness for you to try to do this trip alone—if you’ll pardon my saying so, Sir. Why—why, you’ll lose the ship!”