“What a memory! I certainly thought I heard you say so to Tom May; and there he is with the line and the jolly old trident all ready. There, come on and let’s ask the chief.”
“If you want to go idling, go and ask him for yourself. I’m going down to our dog-hole of a place to study navigation in the dark.”
“Don’t believe you, Dicky.”
“You can believe what you please, sir,” said Roberts coldly.
“All right. I’m off, and I shall ask leave for us both.”
“You dare! I forbid it,” cried Roberts angrily.
“All right,” said Murray, turning on his heel, “but I shall ask for us both, and if you mean to forbid it you’d better come with me to the skipper.”
Murray waited a few moments, standing watching the captain where he was marching up and down the quarter-deck, and timing himself so as to meet him full as he walked forward.
Roberts hesitated for a few moments and then followed closely, looking fiercely determined the while.
“Well, Mr Murray,” said the captain sharply, as he became aware of the presence of the lad, who touched his cap. “What is it—a petition?”