“And then you came and attacked us,” roared the admiral. “Here, I’m half killed.”
“We didn’t know it was you, Sir Thomas,” growled Barney.
“Then why didn’t you know, you idiot?” cried the captain.
“Didn’t think anybody could be down-stairs, sir,” said the butler, respectfully.
“Why didn’t you show your colours, you scoundrel?” cried the admiral, “and not come firing broadsides into your friends. Confound—I say, Harry, my lad, just look at me.”
“I’m very sorry, sir,” faltered the butler.
“Hang your sorrow, sir! You’ve broke my watch-glass, and I can feel the bits pricking me.”
“Come to me at ten o’clock to-morrow morning, all of you,” cried the captain, fiercely, “and I’ll pay you your wages, and you shall go.”
“No, no, no,” said the admiral; “I think we’ve given them as much as they gave us, and—haw, haw, haw!” he roared, bursting into a tremendous peal of laughter; “we didn’t show our colours either. It’s all right, brother Harry; they took us for burglars—but they needn’t have hit quite so hard.”
“Beg your honour’s pardon, sir, sure,” growled Barney.