“Practically, perhaps, for you are ten years older in the service. But it was in the theoretical part of seamanship—which is equally important—that you broke down before the examiners,” continued the younger officer, in tones of earnest but sorrowful reproach, “You never would study.”
“I’ll tell you what it is, master Ferdinand,” said the elder middy, not without a show of displeasure. “I don’t think this is the correct sort of conversation to be going on between two brothers after a five years’ separation.”
The young lieutenant laid his hand soothingly on his brother’s arm, and entreated him to take what he said in good part.
“Well, well!” rejoined the middy, with a laugh half-forced. “Take care what you are about, or, by Jove, I’ll inform against you.”
“What for?”
“Why, for preaching without a license. Besides, you were once as bad as you pretend I am.”
“I own it with sorrow; but I was warned in time by the wretched end of poor James Barber——”
“Of whom?” asked the elder brother, starting back as he pushed his glass along the table. “You don’t mean Jovial Jemmy, as we used to call him; once my messmate in the brig ‘Rollock.’ ”
“Yes, I do.”
“What! dead?”