Roberts gave himself an angry jerk and reached out his hand to snatch at a marlin-spike stuck just beneath the rail.
“What’s the matter now?” asked Murray.
“You’ll know directly if you don’t finish your twaddling stuff. You told me all that before,” cried the lad irritably.
“Did I? Well, you keep on interrupting me so.”
“There, go on.”
“All right,” continued Murray, in the most imperturbable way. “Well, as I was saying, that when they brought the poor fellow round—”
“Bravo, oh prince of story-tellers!” cried Roberts sneeringly. “They brought him round, did they? I wonder he didn’t stop drowned if he was surrounded by people who kept on prosing like you are.”
“Well, he didn’t,” said Murray coolly; “they brought him round.”
“Here, Frank, old chap,” cried Roberts, with mock interest, “it’s as well to be quite certain when you are making history—are you sure that they didn’t bring him square?”
“Oh yes, quite,” said Murray quietly; “they brought him round, and it was remarkable what an effect it had upon his temper.”