"Who?" inquired Jack--"Phil Doolan?"
"No--Bill Stubbs, late of the _Nelson_."
"Where?"
"That squat, broad-shouldered man there, bracing the maintops."
"Yes, now that you point him out, I think I have seen him before,"
said Fritz.
"Holloa, Bill," cried Jack.
"You see," said Willis, "he turned his head."
"How d'ye do, Bill?" added Jack.
"Are you speak'ng to me, sir?" inquired the sailor.
"Yes, Bill."
"Then was your honor present when I was christened? I appear to have
forgotten my name for the last six-and thirty years."
"No use, you see," said Willis; "he is too old a bird to be caught by
any of these dodges. But I have lost the thread of my discourse."
"You had surrounded the cabin, and were lighting lamps."
"Half a dozen men were stationed at the door, pistol in hand, ready to
rush in as soon as it opened. The lieutenant and I went forward and
knocked, but no one answered. We knocked again, louder than before,
but still no answer.
"'Open the door, in the King's name!' thundered the lieutenant.
Silence, as before.
"Calling to the marines, he ordered them to root up Phil Doolan's
sign-post, and use it as a battering ram against the door. The first
blow of this machine nearly brought the house down, and a cracked
voice was heard calling on the saints inside.
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