“What boys?” asked the captain, although he knew perfectly well who were meant.
“The boys that shot them geese and brought us bad luck.”
“See here, Loggermore, this is all nonsense.”
“Excuse me, Cap’n, but it ain’t nonsense at all. We talked it over, and we are sure it was the killin’ of them geese——”
“You talk like a fool,” interrupted the master of the steamer. “Those boys are no more responsible for our ill luck than you or I. The ice knocked us a bit too hard, that’s all.”
“We want them boys kept ashore!” cried Pep Loggermore. “Ain’t that so, mates?” he added, turning to his companions, and they nodded.
“What! Are you going to try to dictate to me?” roared Captain Williamson.
“We ain’t asking anything but what’s right. We——”
“Not another word, Loggermore. Go for’ard, all of you, and don’t let me hear another word of this nonsense,” said the captain, sharply.
“But, Cap’n——”