Rodd, who was standing leaning over the map, moved very slightly, but somehow his left hand stole on to his uncle’s shoulder.
“Right, then,” said the skipper harshly. “It is my duty, Dr Robson, to tell you that you are in a false position.”
“Then, Captain Chubb, as my navigator in whom I have the most perfect trust, it is my duty to tell you that you ought to be on deck sailing us out of it as soon as you can.”
“Come down here on purpose,” said the skipper shortly, “and here goes. Now then, doctor, you are such a busy man, and you are so wrapped up in your fads about natural history and that sort of thing, that anybody artful could take you in and cheat you as easy as swallowing a gooseberry.”
“Well, you have a nice opinion of me, Captain Chubb!”
“I have, sir—a splendid opinion of you,” cried the skipper, “and I’d say it before all the judges in the land—I mean at home—that there was never a more straightforward gentleman made than you. I’d do anything for you.”
“Hear, hear! Bravo, Captain Chubb!” cried Rodd. “What about me?”
“You, youngster? Well, you aren’t half a bad ’un as boys go. But look here, doctor; time’s come for me to speak out. You are a bit too innocent.”
“Am I? Well, captain, that’s better than being a bit too guilty; eh, Rodd?”
“A deal, uncle. But what’s the matter, captain?”