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.