“Why, what’s the matter, Clyde!” demanded the anxious mother.
“I’ve had enough of this ship,” howled the little gentleman, as he glanced again at the stout forward officer.
The complacent face of Peaks maddened him, and Clyde felt that, perhaps for the first time in his life, he had lost a battle. He could not bear the sight of the boatswain’s placid features, unruffled by anything like anger or malice. He felt that he had not even provoked his powerful adversary. He howled in his anger, and then he cried in his desperation. Suddenly he seized a wooden belaying-pin from the rail, and shied it at the boatswain’s head. Peaks caught it in his hand, as though he had been playing toss-ball with his victim; but the next instant his anaconda fold encircled the youth again. Mrs. Blacklock screamed with terror.
“There is no harm done, madam,” interposed the principal. “We don’t allow boys to throw things here.”
“You are very, very harsh with the poor boy.”
“And the poor boy is very, very harsh with us. He throws belaying-pins at our heads.”
“He did not mean any harm.”
“Perhaps not; but that’s an unpleasant way of manifesting his regard.”
“I’ve had enough of this ship! I won’t go in her!” howled Clyde, struggling to escape from the grasp of the officer.