Tom Fillot joined him, with a grim smile on his countenance, soon after.
“Hear the skipper, sir?” he said.
“No; what did he say?”
Tom Fillot gave the midshipman a comical look.
“I don’t think you’d care to hear what he said, sir. But my word, he is in a snag. Swears he’ll be even with you yet, sir, and that we’re a set of thieves and pirates, and not British sailors at all.”
“I thought you were not going to tell me what he said, Tom.”
“I ain’t, sir. That was only some of the nice innercent bits. You’ll excuse me, sir, won’t you?”
“Excuse what?”
“Just hinting again about the irons, or setting of ’em afloat near the shore.”
“I’ll excuse you, Tom Fillot, but I shall not do it.”