"Yea, not at sea! Not at sea! Enough is said. Begone, Master Boatswain, begone!"
"How now," cried Martin when Phil passed him on the deck. "Art thou called before the mast?" And he laughed till he shook.
"Nay, he hath made me his boatswain."
"Thou?"
"Yea, comerado."
"Thou? A mere gooseling? The master's on the road to Bedlam! Why here am I—" Martin's red face flamed hot.
"Yea, he spoke of thee."
"Ah!"
"Quoth he, thou art a fine fellow, but hot-tempered, Martin, and overbold."
"Ah!" The crafty, sly look came upon Martin's face and he puffed with pride; but Phil, delighting to see the jest take effect, laughed before his eyes, which sorely perplexed him.