Resenting the tone of authority in which these words were spoken, Robert answered, composedly:
"I walked on board."
"You'd better not be impudent, young one," said Ben, roughly.
"When you tell me what right you have to question me in that style," said Robert, coolly, "I will apologize."
"I am the mate of this vessel, as you will soon find out."
"So I supposed," said Robert.
"And you, I suppose, are the cabin-boy. Change your clothes at once, and report for duty."
Robert felt sincerely thankful at that moment that he was not the cabin-boy, for he foresaw that in that case he would be subjected to brutal treatment from the mate—treatment which his subordinate position would make him powerless to resent. Now, as a passenger, he felt independent, and though it was disagreeable to have the mate for an enemy, he did not feel afraid.
"You've made a mistake, Mr. Haley," said our hero. "I am not the cabin-boy."
"What are you, then?"