Webster folded his arms, and faced the Captain.
“Do you mean to surrender this ship, Captain Pardoe?”
“And if I do so intend, what then?”
“Why, then, I’ll take command.”
“The devil!” said the Captain, making a step forward, grasping his long glass as a cudgel. A moment they faced each other; then a grim smile hovered about the Captain’s thin lips. “You’re a queer fellow, Jim, and a mutinous one; and I don’t know why I should waste words over you. Take this glass and look over that boat on the starboard.”
Webster, with a keen glance at his captain, did as he was told.
“Well, what do you see?”
“I see a mast with cross-trees.”
“Can you see the hull or rigging below the yards?”
“No, sir, there’s a layer of fog.”