“I never shall, believe me,” said my uncle.
“You won’t,” said the captain, and he walked aft, shaking his head as if our case was hopeless.
“Our friend is not very encouraging, Nat,” said my uncle. “He believes that he knows better than we do, but I think we shall manage all the same. At any rate, we’ll try.”
“How far are we from the coast?” I asked.
“Not above a day’s run,” said my uncle; “so have all your traps ready for putting in the boat at any moment.”
“Everything is ready, uncle,” I said.
“That’s right. I shall be glad to get ashore and to work.”
“Not more glad than I shall be, uncle,” I said. “I’m sick of being cooped up on board ship with this skipper—there, he’s at it again.”
The voice of the captain in a furious passion abusing someone, followed by the sound of a blow and a yelp such as a dog would give when kicked, made Uncle Dick frown.
“The brute!” he muttered. “How he does knock that poor lad about.”