“Silence, there!” cried Fitz. “I know that I am a very young officer to speak to you, but I am in the Queen’s Navy, and I order you in Her Majesty’s name to obey all my commands. I am going to sail at once for Kingston, where I have no doubt there will be a man-of-war on the station, and if you behave well I shall speak to the captain and get him to make it easy for you, but of course I shall give up the skipper and his son as prisoners.”
“Here, say something, Chips,” growled one of the men; and the carpenter spoke out.
“Say, squire, won’t that be rather hard on them?”
“Silence, sir! How dare you! That is not the way for a common sailor to address an officer.”
“Beg pardon, sir, but I am not a common sailor; I am a hartisan. Why, you know—the Chips.”
There was a titter here.
“Attention!” roared Fitz. “This is no laughing matter, my lads. Perhaps each man’s life, certainly his liberty, is at stake.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” came in a growl.
“That’s better,” said Fitz. “Now, I don’t want to be hard on you, my lads.”
“Hear, hear! Thank you, sir,” cried the carpenter.