"It's addressed to you, Simcox," said the skipper blandly.
"Why?" asked Simcox.
The skipper shook his head impatiently.
"I thought you'd 'ave knowed, Simcox. You're the hambassador, and you've to communicate this to 'em."
"Oh, go on, sir," said the crowd.
The skipper resumed:
"MR. SIMCOX,—Sir, you'll be so good as to be so kind as to communicate the contents of this 'ere letter to them French of the wreck we don't know the name of, and tell them to clear. For there ain't no reasonable grounds for supposin' this ain't a British hisland (seeing that mostly all hislands is) and they've by comin' 'ere first got and taken possession of the best bit of it, which can't be allowed, as it's contrary to law in such case made and purvided. So you'll inform 'em it ain't goin' to be put up with, and they must evacuate immejit and resume the statues quo——"
"What's that?" asked Simcox.
"It's Latin, you unutterable ass," said the skipper, with a look of withering contempt.
"I don't know Latin," said the poor second mate.