“Then you are a privateer,” observed the disappointed officer. “Where are your papers?”
“Mr Oxbelly, oblige me by bringing them up,” said Jack.
“Fat Jack of the bone house,” observed the lieutenant, looking at Oxbelly.
“A lieutenant in his Majesty’s service, of longer standing than yourself, young man,” replied Oxbelly firmly;—“and who, if he ever meets you in any other situation—will make you answer for your insolent remark.”
“Indeed!” observed the lieutenant ironically; “now, if you had said you were once a boatswain or gunner.”
“Consider yourself kicked,” roared Oxbelly, losing his temper.
“Hey day! why, you old porpoise!”
“Sir,” observed Jack, who listened with indignation, “Mr Oxbelly is a lieutenant in his Majesty’s service, and you have no right to insult him, even if he were not.”
“I presume you are all officers,” replied the lieutenant.
“I am, sir,” retorted Gascoigne, “an officer in his Majesty’s service, and on board of this vessel by permission of Captain Sawbridge of the Latona.”