Jerry James’s jaw tightened and he clapped his friend on the arm. “Right,” he said, and then the two of them walked up the passageway and knocked on the door of Captain West’s cabin.
“Come in,” the skipper growled.
They entered.
“What took you so long?” Captain West snapped.
“We were delayed,” Sandy said.
“Oh,” the skipper mocked, glancing over at his mate, who sat on the bunk. “Did you hear that, Briggs? They were delayed, he says. Well,” he sneered, his voice turning ugly, “you’ll have plenty of time for delays where I’m putting you.”
The skipper peered at them with eager expectation, as though he hoped his remarks would goad them into losing their tempers. Observing this, Sandy was inwardly pleased. He realized that the skipper could not be too confident of himself, that he was not sure of how much the youths actually knew—no matter what Mr. Briggs had said to him.
“Well?” the skipper roared, crashing his fist down on his desk. “What have you to say to that?”
“Nothing, sir,” Sandy replied evenly.
A red flush began to spread over Captain West’s face. But it was supplanted by a cunning look.