Jack could contain himself no longer.
“Oh, sir, do you think we’ll be able to get those poor fellows off?”
The captain looked at him sharply.
“I don’t know anything about it,” he said. “Don’t pester me with foolish questions. It is eight bells. Be off to your dinner.”
Jack, abashed, red-faced and angry at what he felt was an undeserved snub, obeyed. At dinner he told Raynor all about it.
“Well, if you had been on the bridge all night, maybe you would feel none too amiable, either,” said his companion.
“On the bridge all night!” exclaimed Jack, who had no idea that while he was snug in his bunk the captain had been facing the storm.
“Of course. Captain Braceworth never leaves the bridge in bad weather, even if this is only a freighter and not a dandy passenger boat with pretty ladies and big swells on board,” retorted Raynor.
“I—I didn’t know that,” said Jack, rather shamefacedly. “If I had, I wouldn’t have spoken as I did.”
“I know that, youngster,” said Raynor. “And now let’s hurry through grub and get up on deck again and see what’s doing. I’ve a notion we’ll see something interesting before very long.”