“It would be safer, sir,” said Fitz.
“But most unpleasant,” continued the skipper. “But there, my lad, situated as you are, I don’t think you need strain a point. Give me your parole that you will content yourself with looking on, and I won’t ask you to go below.”
“Oh, he will, father. I’ll answer for that,” cried Poole.
“Answer for yourself, my boy. That’s enough for you to do. Let Mr Burnett give me his own assurance. It would be rather mean, wouldn’t it, Mr Burnett, if you did betray us?”
“Yes, sir; horrible,” cried Fitz quickly. “But if it were one of our ships I should be obliged.”
“Of course,” said the skipper; “but as it is you will hold your tongue?”
“Yes, sir; I shall look on.”
“That’s right. Now then,” continued the skipper, “the game’s going to begin. There is sure to be some firing, so keep well down under the shelter of the bulwarks. Of course they will never have a chance to take aim, but there is no knowing what a random shot may do.”
“Want me to do anything, father?” said Poole eagerly.
“No, my boy. There is nothing you can do. It will all lie with Mr Burgess; Butters, who will be at the wheel; myself, and the men who trim the sails.”