“Yes, sir. A good many bonito are playing about the bows.”
“Yes; I saw them, my lad. Want to go fishing—harpooning?”
“Yes, sir. Roberts and I.”
“Oh yes, of course, my lad. A good time for it, and I shall expect a nice dish for the cabin table. But look here, Mr Murray, I like to keep to the little forms of the service, and in cases of this sort you had better ask Mr Anderson for leave. You understand?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” said Murray.
“No, no; I have not given you permission. Ask Mr Anderson. He will give you leave at once.”
Murray saluted; the captain marched on; and directly after the two midshipmen were face to face.
“Then you have dared—” began Roberts.
“Yes, all right,” said Murray, laughing to himself, for he noticed that his companion spoke in a low tone of voice so that his words might not be heard by their chief. “Yes, it’s all right, only we’re to ask Anderson.”
“Yes, I heard what the skipper said, but I tell you at once I’m not going to stoop to do anything of the kind. Do you think I’m going to degrade myself by begging for leave again?”