"My orders!" said the captain, shortly. "You may go below, my man. Hands will want supper."
"Ay, ay, sir," answered the cook; and, touching his forelock, he disappeared at once in the direction of his galley.
"That's a good man, captain," said the doctor.
"Very likely, sir," replied Captain Smollett. "Easy with that, men—easy," he ran on, to the fellows who were shifting the powder; and then suddenly observing me examining the swivel we carried amidships, a long brass nine—"Here, you ship's boy," he cried, "out o' that! Off with you to the cook and get some work."
And then as I was hurrying off I heard him say, quite loudly, to the doctor:
"I'll have no favorites on my ship."
I assure you I was quite of the squire's way of thinking, and hated the captain deeply.