Medbury did not look up as he answered:
"No; I guess I'll keep them on deck."
Hetty looked aloft at the mast thrashing through a wide arc.
"I knew you wouldn't," she said. "It would have been—unlike you."
Medbury glanced at her with a shamefaced smile, but he made no reply.
Drew laughed.
"Do you know, I had heard so much of the harsh treatment of sailors by their officers that I came on this voyage prepared for something of the sort, and dreading it," he said, in his slow, deep voice; "but I have seen nothing but consideration."
Medbury's mouth twitched with scornful amusement; it almost seemed to him that Drew had unknowingly called him pusillanimous. He was by no means a hard man, and was popular with his crews; but he was young and a certain amount of swagger seemed amusing, while, in addition, he had all the contempt of the American sailor for the stolid alien creatures who more and more were finding their way into the forecastles of ships that carried his country's flag.
"I don't believe in being a brute," he began; "but—"
"Yes," broke in Hetty, eagerly; "it is only a brute who will take advantage of his power. I have been going to sea all my life, but I have never seen cruelty. All the sailors I know are the largest-hearted of men. I hate the tales that blacken them."