“But I can’t forget that he hit me,” said Don sternly.
“Now, now, Mas’ Don, you mustn’t speak like that.”
“And you must not speak like that, Jem,—Master Don. You’ll have some of the men hear you.”
“Well, I’ll mind; but you mustn’t think any more about that, my lad. He’s captain, and can do as he likes. You were going to hit him, weren’t you?”
“Yes, Jem, I’m afraid I was. I always feel like that if I’m hurt.”
“But you mustn’t now you’re a sailor. Say, my lad, things looks rather ugly, somehow. Think the captain will punish you?”
“We shall see, Jem.”
“But hadn’t we better— I say, my lad,” he whispered, “we could swim ashore.”
“And the shark?”
“Ugh! I forgot him. Well, take a boat, and get right away, for I’ve been thinking, Mas’ Don, it’s a very horrid thing to have hit your officer.”