“No, no. Nonsense,” cried Hilary, giving him a touch with his foot. “Get up and walk on.”
“Sha’n’t,” said the man. “Going to sleep, I tell you.”
“Lookye here, Jemmy,” said the sailor who had first spoken, “you’ll get your back scratched, you will, if you don’t get up when you’re told. This here’s a officer.”
“Not he,” grumbled the man sleepily. “He ar’n’t no officer, I know. Going to sleep, I tell you.”
“Get up, sir,” cried Hilary sharply. “I am an officer.”
“Bah! get out. Only officer of a merchant ship. You ar’n’t no reg’lar officer.”
“If you don’t get up directly, you dog, I’ll have the marines sent after you,” cried Hilary.
The man sat up and stared.
“I say,” he said, “you ar’n’t king’s officer, are you?”
“Yes, sir, I am.”