“You said, hang the cook, sir,” said Murray.
“Rubbish! Absurd! There, I told you both to be off. I’m not going to give you leave to play idle boys. If you want leave, there’s the captain yonder; go and ask him.”
“He’d only say, sir, why didn’t we ask leave of you.”
“And very proper too,” said the first lieutenant, “and if he does say so you can tell him I would not give you leave because I thought it waste of time for young men who want to rise in their profession. What was that you muttered, Mr Murray?”
“I only said to myself, sir, ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’”
“Yes; very true, my lad,” said the officer, with a grim smile. “I’m not unreasonable, and I’d give you leave; but perhaps you had better ask your chief.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Murray.
“And look here, Murray; if you get permission, be careful. I don’t want the routine of the ship to be interfered with and my men set hovering about to pick up a couple of useless idlers, and every one upset by the cry of a man overboard—I mean, a boy.”
“I’ll try not to be that boy,” said Murray, smiling; and the chief officer gave him a friendly nod and walked forward.
“Bah!” grumbled Roberts. “There’s favouritism.”