"I think we have had rather more than a capful these last two days," replied Ralph, ignoring the insulting language.
"You manage to shirk all the trouble it causes, anyway. I don't see that you need complain," said Kirke with a sneer.
Ralph was silent. He finished his breakfast quickly and went out.
The men were letting all the reefs out of the topsails, and getting the top-gallant yards across, in hopes of a fine day in which to make the most of the favourable gale.
It was a bright, bustling scene, and Ralph was amused by looking on.
The old carpenter stood by him. This man and the sailmaker both came from the same country village in Cornwall where Captain Rogers and Ralph's mother had been born. They always sailed with the captain, if possible, from clannish attachment to him; and loved a chat with Ralph from the same feeling.
"Nice day, Wills," said the boy.
"'Ees, zur, but it won't last," said the carpenter.
"'Lamb's wool skies, and filley's tails,
Make lofty ships carry low sails,'"
and he pointed to the drifting clouds.