So saying, he shouted out to one of the hands in the waist forwards: “Here, Bill Summers!”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the man, looking up towards the break of the poop, whence the second-mate had hailed him, leaning over the rail.
“Just go and call Jones and Maitland. Tell ’em to turn out sharp or I’ll stop their grog,” cried Mr Capstan.
“Aye, aye, sir,” said the man, proceeding towards the deck-house, which occupied a middle position in the ship between the poop and fo’c’s’le; and presently, although hidden from the gaze of those aft, he could be heard rapping at one of the doors, repeating in whispered tones the order the second-mate had given him.
Ere long, a couple of striplings appeared, dressed in dirty uniforms which presented a marked difference to that of Teddy; and he noticed besides that one was considerably taller than he was while the second was shorter and a little slimmer.
“Here, you, Jones and Maitland, I won’t have you caulking away this bright morning when the sun ought to be scorching the sleep out of your eyes. What do you mean by it, eh?” began Mr Capstan as if lashing himself into a passion, but had not quite got enough steam up yet.
“I thought, sir, as this is our first day out and the ship still in charge of the pilot, we needn’t turn out so early,” said Jones, the biggest of the two, acting as spokesman.
“You thought!” snarled the second-mate, catching up a rope’s-end with the apparent intention of laying it across the shoulders of Jones, only he kept a wary distance away. “I’ve half a mind to give you something for answering me like that! No one has any business to think on board ship.”
“Aye, where you’re boss!” said the offender speaking aside.
“What is that you’re jabbering?” quickly interposed Mr Capstan—“some impudence, I reckon. Now, just you pull off those patent-leather pumps of yours and set to work washing decks. It’s gone six bells, and it ought to have been done half an hour ago.”