“Mr. Wellard is sulky,” said the captain. “Perhaps Mr. Wellard’s mind is dwelling on what lies behind him. Behind him. ‘By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept.’ But proud Mr. Wellard hardly wept. And he did not sit down at all. No, he would be careful not to sit down. The dishonourable part of him has paid the price of his dishonour. The grown man guilty of an honourable offence is flogged upon his back, but a boy, a nasty dirtyminded boy, is treated differently. Is not that so, Mr. Wellard?”
“Yes, sir,” murmured Wellard. There was nothing else he could say, and an answer was necessary.
“Mr. Booth’s cane was appropriate to the occasion. It did its work well. The malefactor bent over the gun could consider of his misdeeds.”
Wellard inverted the glass again while the captain, apparently satisfied, took a couple of turns up and down the deck, to Bush’s relief. But the captain checked himself in midstride beside Wellard and went on talking; his tone now was highpitched.
“So you chose to conspire against me?” he demanded. “You sought to hold me up to derision before the hands?”
“No, sir,” said Wellard in sudden new alarm. “No, sir, indeed not, sir.”
“You and that cub Hornblower. Mister Hornblower. You plotted and you planned, so that my lawful authority should be set at nought.”
“No, sir!”
“It is only the hands who are faithful to me in this ship where everyone else conspires against me. And cunningly you seek to undermine my influence over them. To make me a figure of fun in their sight. Confess it!”
“No, sir. I didn’t, sir.”