“That he seemed to me as if he would have given me a job to mend some of his bones before he was half-way to the main-top.”
“Oh, Mr Handscombe!” cried Steve reproachfully.
“It’s a fact, sir,” said the captain sternly. “I dare not let you go about so serious a task in that jaunty way. There, give me the glass.”
Steve slowly handed the glass, in so despondent a fashion that the captain spoke more quietly.
“I can’t help it, my lad. I regret checking you; but you see the state of the rigging, and that a slip might be fatal. I dare not let you go.”
Steve said nothing, but glanced up at the crow’s-nest, which glistened like silver in the sunshine; and he noted again how the rope ladders were all coated with ice, and he found it hard to imagine that he had been jaunty and careless; he told himself he had only been eager to do what was required, and hence it seemed to be doubly hard.
“I did mean to be very careful, sir,” he said at last.
“I know it, my lad,” replied the captain quietly; “but I was wrong to think of it, and your quick, eager way showed me the risk, and made me wiser.”
“But I don’t think it is so dangerous, sir,” cried Steve. “Let me try.”
“I do think it dangerous,” said the captain. “There, you shall hear another opinion. Johannes!”