“It is not enough for me. My knowledge of Captain Pardoe does not inspire me with much confidence in his designs, and you forget the circumstances under which I was trapped.”
“Well, well, you’re just like the rest. You landsmen don’t mind what you do ashore, but no sooner do you come aboard than you’re as nice with your conscience as a lady’s-maid with her mistress’s borrowed gown. I warrant you’d not trouble your head about the policy of a merchant’s business if you entered his service, not though he was selling bad pork to sailors or robbing the widows.”
“You’re going rather wide of the mark, Mr Webster,” said Frank sternly.
“There, now, you’ve taken offence, and that’s what makes me sad to think of you tossing like a log in your cabin—like that cold-blooded creature of a Commins who’s drinking champagne in his bunk, the swab.”
“Mr Webster!” hailed the Captain.
“Yes, sir!”
“Take the remainder of my watch, please, and keep a sharp look-out on the starboard quarter.”
Webster swung quickly to the bridge, where he touched his hat to the lady, and then braced himself fast to sweep the channel with the glass.
Captain Pardee came down slowly, and reeled a little on the deck, as though he had taken too much grog, thought Frank, as he caught him by the arm.
“Thank ’ee,” said he. “I’ve not quitted the bridge before since we left the Pool, and my legs are rather stiff.”