“Hang his impudence!” Fitz thought. “Patronising me like that!”
“Shall I go and ask him for some tackle?”
“No,” was the snappish reply. “I don’t want to fish. I have other things on my mind. I have been thinking about this a good deal, young man, and I am not going to put up with any of your insolence. I am an officer in Her Majesty’s service, and when one is placed in a position like this, without a superior officer over one, it is my duty to take the command; and if I did as I should do, I ought to give orders to ’bout ship and make sail at once for the nearest port.”
“That’s quite right; and why don’t you?”
“Well—er—I—er—that is—”
“Here, I say, old chap, don’t be so cocky. What’s the good of making a windbag of yourself? I’ve only got to prick you, and where are you then? You don’t think you are going to frighten my dad with bluster, do you?”
“Blus-ter, sir?”
“Yes, b-l-u-s-t-e-r. You can’t call it anything else. I know how you feel. Humbled like at being caught like this. I’m sorry for you.”
“Sorry! Bah!”
“Well, I am, really; but, to tell the truth, I should be more sorry if you could get away. It’s rather jolly having you here. But you are a bit grumpy this morning. Your head hurts you, doesn’t it?”