"No, no, man," said Jack, "don't let nobody, know as we 'ad 'alf an 'and in it. The cove's name may be Juggins, but we'll be jugged."
They were well out to sea, and the tug was a blotch of smoke to windward, before Bill Juggins, A.B., showed the faintest sign of life. And even then they only heard him grunt as he turned over uneasily and went off on another cruise in the deep seas of sleep.
"If he works like he sleeps," said the crowd in the second dog-watch, "he'll be a harder grafter than Smith that skipped. It's a wonder the second ain't been in after him."
But the new skipper and Plump and Dodman hit it off so completely that they sat together on the poop and told each other all about everything in the happiest way. For Greig, though he was a hard enough man in his way, had the gift of creating good humour along with respect.
"It's a wonder what became of my lamented predecessor," said Greig.
"He's certainly dead, sir," said Plump.
"As dead as mutton," agreed Dodman.
"It would be a compliment to put the ship in mourning, as he owned a share in her," said Greig; "and I think I shall do it."
