“You mean,” said the doctor, “that you must take the smooth with the rough.”
“Why? I don’t understand you,” replied the boy.
“The smooth oil with the rough work of capturing.”
“Oh, I see!” cried Steve.
“And you mean to try harpooning?”
“Why not, sir? I tried shooting.”
“Wait till you have some more muscle on your arm, Steve,” said the doctor, laughing; and then, after a look round at the sunlit sea, on which they were gliding easily along with plenty of canvas spread, as there was a favourable wind, he went below.
“Wait till I’ve got more muscle,” muttered Steve. “I’ve got as much as most fellows of my age. Yes, as much as you have, Mr Watty Links; and I’ll show you that I have one of these days,” he added, as he caught sight of the boy watching him with a supercilious smile on his face. “No, I won’t,” thought Steve, as the boy disappeared. “Nice blackguard I should look fighting with a fellow like that. Why, he might lick me,” he added after a few moments’ thought. “I’m not afraid of him, but he’s bigger and stronger than I am, and he might. I should never forgive myself,” he said half aloud. “Yes, I should,” he muttered, smiling at his fresh idea, “when I had had another try and licked him. Bother! I didn’t come to sea to fight. Here, Jakobsen, where’s Johannes?”
The man smiled and pointed upward.
“What do you mean? Oh, I see; in the crow’s-nest.”