“Hang his insolence!” muttered the middy; and as Tom lowered himself from the post and then went, rock-hopper fashion, down the steps and boarded the boat, the young officer gave Aleck a supercilious stare up and down, taking in his rough every-day clothes and swelling himself out a little in his smart blue well-fitting uniform.
Aleck felt nettled, drew himself up, and returned the stare before making a similar inspection of the young naval officer.
“Whose boat’s that, boy?” said the latter, haughtily.
“Mine,” was Aleck’s prompt reply. “What ship’s that, middy—I don’t mean the cutter, of course?”
“Well, of all the insolence—” began the lad. “Do you know, sir, that you mustn’t address one of the King’s officers like that?”
“No, I didn’t know it,” said Aleck, coolly. “I thought you were only a midshipman. Are you the captain?”
“Why, con—”
“Look out!” cried Aleck, giving the speaker a sharp push which nearly sent him backward but saved him from receiving a wet dockfish full on the cheek, the unpleasantly foul object whizzing between the lads’ heads, followed by a roar of laughter from a group of the young ruffians on the pier.
“How dare you lay your hands upon a King’s officer!” cried the midshipman, furiously.
Aleck shrugged his shoulders and laughed.