“My temper, you dog!” cried the midshipman, furiously. “How dare you treat me like this?”
“And how dare you come with your gang, knocking honest men on the head and dragging them off to sea?” retorted Eben. “You’d think nothing of putting them in irons because they wouldn’t take to the sea. How do you like it, my young springold?”
“I’m not going to argue with you, you ruffian, about that,” cried the midshipman. “Now, look here, that woman who brought me the wretched food said she dare not and could not unlock that iron I’ve got round my ankle, but that when her husband came I was to ask him. Now, then, you’re the husband, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes, I’m the husband, safe enough,” growled the smuggler.
“Then I order you in the King’s name to take these irons off.”
“You wait a bit, captain,” said the smuggler; “all in good time. Here, take it coolly for a bit longer; I’ve brought you some company.”
“Ah, who’s that with you? I thought I saw someone and heard whispering.”
The smuggler held the lanthorn lower and opened the door, so that the candle light shone full on Aleck’s face.
“You?” cried the midshipman, excitedly. “Then I was right; I thought you were one of the smuggling gang.”
“Then you thought wrong,” said Aleck, shortly.