“Pass the landlubbers a clothes line,” shouted a voice from the forecastle.
A line, coiled, suddenly shot down from above. Sam chanced to be standing up in the boat at that moment. The line hit him fairly on the top of his red head, flattening him on the bottom of the skiff.
A shout went up from the forecastle.
“You lubbers!” bellowed Sam, scrambling to his feet, nearly upsetting the skiff in his efforts to get his eyes on the man who was responsible for knocking him down. “I’d duck you if I had you down here.”
“Yes, you would!” came back the prompt answer.
“Yes, I would.”
“Come up here and try it, red-head! We’ve got some shower baths up in the forecastle.”
“Don’t answer him, Sam,” cautioned Dan. “There is an officer watching us, and we do not want him to think we are a couple of rowdies.”
“Well, we aren’t, are we?” demanded Sam indignantly.
“Certainly not. All the more reason why we should act like gentlemen.”