“Then why did you take me prisoner, sir?” said the boy angrily.
“Why, in the name of thunder, did you come and tumble down my hatchway instead of stopping on the gunboat? I didn’t ask you to come. Here, you are as bad as having a girl on board, or something made of wax, that mustn’t be spoiled. I can’t stir without thinking of having to take care of you.”
“Oh,” cried Fitz angrily. “This is adding insult to injury, sir.”
“Well, yes, it don’t sound very pleasant, does it, my boy? But you are a young nuisance, you know. I mustn’t have you hurt. You see, Poole’s my own, and I can do what I like with him; but you— Now then, what were you going to do?”
“I was going with Poole, sir.”
“Of course!” cried the skipper angrily. “Just like a middy. I never had anything to do with one before, but I’ve heard times enough from those who have, that if there’s a bit of mischief afloat, the first nose that goes into it is a middy’s.”
“I don’t know what I’ve done, sir, that you should keep on insulting me like this.”
“Insult! Bah! Is it insulting you to stop you from going into the most dangerous bit of to-night’s work?”
“Poole’s going, sir.”
“Yes; to do his duty as my son, in this emergency. But it’s not your duty, and you will be in the way. It’s very risky, my lad. For aught I know there may be half-a-dozen scouts between here and the landing-place, waiting to shoot down any one who tries to open up communication with the boats.”