“Don’t speak so loud,” whispered another.
“He don’t understand English, and I don’t care if he did,” answered the other.
“Yes, I think it is a devilish hard case,” joined in another, “that we should be obliged to sit here and let that fellow, who don’t know a jib from a paddle-box, steer the boat.”
“What do you say if we take the management, my hearties?” inquired a lean, long-featured individual.
“Hum,” groaned one.
“Suppose we do?” inquired another.
They whispered still lower among themselves for a moment.
“I say, you sir—you sir, keep her off, will you, don’t you see the wind is right a-head?” shouted one to the master fisherman, in a tone of derision.
“Keep her head up, Mr. Spaniole, d’ye hear? don’t you see the wind is turning her round?” cried another.
These insults seemed lost on the master fisherman, for he took them with marvellous fortitude.