"Thank you, sir," said he, rubbing his wrist, which the boatswain had struck during the conflict. "I'll be honest and do what I can. You may trust me to work for you. This here mutiny belonged to all hands, and was no one man's, unless it were Stevens'; and I'd rather be here than in the long-boat." "Bo'sun," said I, cutting the fellow short, "the carpenter made the port quarter-boat useless by knocking some planks out of her. We ought to get the boat alongside in board while the water's smooth--we may want her." "Right you are, Mr. Royle," said he. "Pay us out a rope's end, will you, and I'll drop her under the davits?" And, active as a cat, he scrambled into the main-chains. But on a sudden I heard a heavy splash. "My God!" I cried "he's fallen overboard!" And I was rushing towards the poop when I heard him sing out, "Hallo! here's another!" and this was followed by a second splash. I got on to the bulwarks and bawled to him, "Where are you? What are you doing? Are you bathing?" "The deuce a bit," he answered. "It was one o' them blessed mutineers in the main-chains, and here was another in the boat. I pitched 'em into the water. Now then, slacken gently, and belay when I sing out." In a few moments the boat was under the davits and both falls hooked on. Then up came the boatswain, and the three of us began to hoist, manning first one fall, and then the other, bit by bit, until the boat was up; but she was a heavy load, with her freight of provisions and water--too precious to us to lose--and we panted, I promise you, by the time she was abreast of the poop rail. "Mr. Bo'sun," said Cornish, suddenly, "beggin' your pardon--I thought you was dead." "Did you, Jim Cornish?" "I thought you was drownded, sir." "Well, I ain't the fust drownded man as has come to life agin." "All hands, Mr. Bo'sun, thought you was overboard, lyin' drownded. You _was_ overboard?" "And do you think I'm going to explain?" answered the boatswain, contemptuously. "It terrified me to see you, sir." "Well, perhaps I ain't real arter all. How do you know? Seein' ain't believin', so old women say." "I don't believe in ghosts; but I thought you was one, Mr. Bo'sun, and so did big Johnson when he swore you was one of the three at the port main-braces." "Well, I ain't ashamed o' bein' a shadder. Better men nor me have been shadders. I knew a ship-chandler as wos a churchwarden and worth a mint o' money, who became a shadder, and kept his wife from marryin' William Soaper, o' the Coopid public-house Love Lane, Shadwell High Street, by standin' at the foot of her bed every night at eight bells. He had a cast in wun eye, Mr. Royle, and that's how his wife knew him." "Well, I'll say no more--but my hair riz when you turned an' hit me over the arm. I thought you couldn't be substantial like."