"I am a sailor, Mike, and can work as well as fight or give orders."
The rough seaman looked at the lieutenant and could scarcely believe his senses.
"No, no, sir; this 'ere work is not for the likes of you."
"Stand aside and rest a bit; I'll call you when I'm tired."
"Which'll be precious soon, I'll warrant me," growled Zeke Patten, a surly, discontented man.
"You hold your tongue unless you can be civil, Zeke," said Mullen, "or I'll make you."
Tempest heard both remarks, but did not let it be seen.
He took Mike's place and worked with an energy they had not counted on.
"Why don't you sing, boys?" he asked; "the work is so much easier."
"Can't get our breath then."