“There are two kinds of back-downs; and it makes some difference which one you mean. I am not going to kiss O’Hara’s great toe, or any thing of that sort; but I am willing to come down a little for the sake of getting out of this scrape.”
“All right. Tell the steward that we want to see the captain; and you needn’t be so unutterably grand as you were the last time you saw him,” replied Clinch.
“I meant to treat him with proper contempt; and, if I ever get hold of him, I shall be even with him in some way,” blustered Gregory.
“That’s all gas!” exclaimed Clinch, who was rather disgusted with the lofty ways of his companion in rebellion. “What’s the use of talking in that way? O’Hara has the weather-gauge of you, and you can’t do any thing.”
“I know I can’t now, while he has Shakings to fight his battles for him,” growled Gregory.
“He does just as the principal and the vice-principals do: they never touch a fellow with their own hands; they called on the boatswains.”
“If the boatswain had been out of the way, I would have made an end of O’Hara’s reign. I am sure I could have got about all the fellows from the Josephine to join our party.”
“So much the bigger fool you, for standing out before you had said any thing to the fellows. Even Stokes backed square down when it came to the scratch.”
“I was feeling very badly when I did it. That Burgundy did not agree with me; it made me as cross and sour as a baby at midnight. I did not intend to do any thing till the moment came when I did it.”
“It is no use of grumbling about what is past and gone. We are in the scrape; and the question is, how shall we get out of it?” said Clinch, somewhat softened by the confession of his friend.