“Of course not. Did you?”
“Oh yes, I heerd ’em and seed ’em too; leastwise, I seed their lights. So did Tom Gardener.”
“Then why didn’t you call me up?” cried Nic angrily.
“’Cause you’d ha’ woke the Captain, and he’d have had us all out for a fight.”
“Of course he would.”
“And he was a deal better in his bed. You know what he is, Master Nic. I put it to you, now. He’s got all the sperrit he always did have, and is ripe as ever for a row; but is he fit, big and heavy as he’s growed, to go down fighting salmon-poachers?”
“No; but we could have knocked up Tom Gardener and the other men, and gone ourselves.”
“Oh!” ejaculated the old sailor, laughing. “He’d have heared, perhaps. Think you could ha’ made him keep back when there was a fight, Master Nic?”
“No, I suppose not; but he will be horribly angry, and go on at you fiercely when he knows.”
“Oh, of course,” said the man coolly. “That’s his way; but I’m used to that. It does him good, he likes it, and it don’t do me no harm. Never did in the old days at sea.”