“Well, where are they?” and Ruhet looked about again as if they could somewhere be seen. “Hang bridle,” he cried to the gunner, “you just fire and don’t bother about being polite with your gun. If conscience and law are anywhere about here, they’ll let us know.”
The gunner did so at once, for he hated the first officer as much as the first officer hated him, when he bothered about hating anybody, and he loved his bluff and straight-forward admiral.
At once there broke out from the small craft a multitude of flags.
“I told you so, excellency,” said Nicht Wahr.
“Well, tell me again,” said Ruhet. “Hanged if I know what it was. I have a short memory.”
But the first officer held a haughty silence.
Now the first flags were exchanged for others, nearly all of redder hue.
“By the currycomb of Red Joshua, I think they are poking fun at us. Regular sport! If I were sure of that—”
“Pardon me, they are not, excellency,” said Nicht Wahr.
“They are so,” cried the savage admiral. “And by the roof of my father’s mouth, no one ever poked fun at Hier Ruhet and lived to poke more!”