“Not he,” said Smith; “old Gnat wouldn’t stick a pin in a cockroach.”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” I said stoutly, “but I’d crush it under my foot if I found one in the cabin.”
“One for you, Blacksmith,” said Barkins. “Look here, Gnat, you would like to kill some of the piratical beggars, wouldn’t you?”
I remained silent again.
“There,” said Smith, “I told you so. If we caught a lot, Gnat would give them a lecture, and tell them they had been very naughty, and that they mustn’t do so any more or he would be very angry with them indeed.”
“Punch his head, Gnat.”
I made no reply to their flippant remarks, for just then I felt very solemn and thoughtful. I hope I was not priggish. No, I am sure I was not; every word I uttered was too sincere, though they chaffed me afterwards, and I have thought since that they felt more seriously than they spoke.
“You chaps didn’t go on board that barque,” I said quietly; “I did.”
“Yes; old Dishy’s making a regular favourite of you, Gnat,” said Barkins.
But I went on without heeding, my eyes fixed on the burning vessel whose flames shone brightly in the clear air.