“Then why didn’t you go in the Royal Navy?”
“Because my father had a better opportunity for getting me in the merchant service.”
“Oh!”
I felt as if I should never like Mr Nicholas Walters, for he was rather consequential in his way, and seemed disposed to lord it over me on the strength of having made one voyage. But I consoled myself with the thought that it was hard for any one to make himself agreeable on a day like that; and then as we sat listening to the banging and thumping about overhead, I began to think of my promise to my father, for I had promised to make the best of things all through the voyage, and not be easily damped.
My musings were cut short by my companion.
“I say,” he cried, “you seem a lively sort of officer.”
“One can’t feel very lively just coming away from home amongst strangers,” I replied.
“Bosh! You’re talking like a boarding-school girl. What do you think of the skipper?”
“The captain? I haven’t seen him yet.”
“Yes, you have. That was he who let go at the men up aloft. He’s a rough ’un, and no mistake. Berriman—I don’t think much of him nor of the ship; I shall shift into another line after this trip. It isn’t good enough for me.”