The man grinned. “Not us, sir. But—what about a break ashore? Get the kinks out of our legs.”
“And get the kinks into your head, eh?” Black Pawl chuckled. “Drown yourselves in some native rot-gut?”
The man looked sheepish. “The mate were thinking you’d leave us go.”
“The mate were thinking, were he?” Black Pawl mimicked. “Then why come to me?”
The man shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. Black Pawl looked toward his son. “What’s the matter, Red?” he asked.
“I told them it was fair they should go,” Red Pawl answered, dourly, “that there was no reason you should object.”
“What if I object without reason?”
“That’s despotism!”
Black Pawl laughed aloud. “Where did you learn that word?”
“You’ve taught it to me.”