Mr Denning looked at her angrily, and Mr Preddle shook hands very awkwardly before walking away with me, and as I helped him down the ladder, he said in a whisper—
“Are they all laughing at me? Look.”
“Oh no,” I said, after a hasty glance. “I’m afraid we were all very rude, but every one meets with these accidents at sea.”
I fancied he muttered something about “disgraced,” but he was very silent, and hardly noticed the men who touched their caps to him as we went forward, where he stayed with the fish for a few minutes, and lifted out a couple which lay floating wrong side up, with a tiny landing-net; and then walked back without me towards his cabin. I let him get nearly to the companion-way, and then ran after him with my face burning.
“I beg your pardon for laughing at you, Mr Preddle,” I said.
He turned his piteous face toward me, and smiled in a simple, good-natured way, as he held out his hand.
“You couldn’t help it,” he said; “I suppose I did look very ridiculous. It’s because I’m so stout; p’r’aps being at sea will take it down.”
He nodded and went on, leaving me thinking.
It was awkward, just too as he wanted to show how well he was. Then I started and looked round, for some one clapped me on the shoulder.
“You and Mr Preddle seem to be getting capital friends, Dale; how smart he had made himself look!”