“Why, no,” he replied. “Did he? What for?”
“Ye-es, he did. And what for? Why, just to find out what was the matter with his trial balance, that's all. When one of Labe's trial balances starts out for snug harbor and ends up on a reef with six foot of water in her hold, naturally Labe wants to get her afloat and pumped dry as quick as possible. He ain't used to it, for one thing, and it makes him nervous.”
Albert's uneasiness grew. When his grandfather's speech became sarcastic and nautical, the young man had usually found that there was trouble coming for somebody.
“I—I'm sorry Laban had to stay so late,” he stammered. “I should have been glad to stay and help him, but he didn't ask me.”
“No-o. Well, it may possibly be that he cal'lated he was carryin' about all your help that the craft would stand, as 'twas. Any more might sink her. See here, young feller—” Captain Zelotes dropped his quiet sarcasm and spoke sharp and brisk: “See here,” he said, “do you realize that this sheet of paper I've got here is what stands for a day's work done by you yesterday? And on this sheet there was no less than four silly mistakes that a child ten years old hadn't ought to make, that an able-bodied idiot hadn't ought to make. But YOU made 'em, and they kept Labe Keeler here till three o'clock this mornin'. Now what have you got to say for yourself?”
As a matter of fact, Albert had very little to say, except that he was sorry, and that his grandfather evidently did not consider worth the saying. He waved the protestation aside.
“Sorry!” he repeated impatiently. “Of course you're sorry, though even at that I ain't sure you're sorry enough. Labe was sorry, too, I don't doubt, when his bedtime went by and he kept runnin' afoul of one of your mistakes after another. I'm sorry, darned sorry, to find out that you can make such blunders after three years on board here under such teachin' as you've had. But bein' sorry don't help any to speak of. Any fool can be sorry for his foolishness, but if that's all, it don't help a whole lot. Is bein' sorry the best excuse you've got to offer? What made you make the mistakes in the first place?”
Albert's face was darkly red under the lash of his grandfather's tongue. Captain Zelotes and he had had disagreements and verbal encounters before, but never since they had been together had the captain spoken like this. And the young fellow was no longer seventeen, he was twenty. The flush began to fade from his cheeks and the pallor which meant the rise of the Speranza temper took its place.
“What made you make such fool blunders?” repeated the captain. “You knew better, didn't you?”
“Yes,” sullenly, “I suppose I did.”