"Then why didn't you say so?" he demanded sharply. "You're an officer in the United States Navy, and these Chilian swabs wouldn't dare lay a finger on you. What did you let Matt go for, when you could have gone just as well?"
"Hold your luff, Ferral," answered Glennie, reddening. "You didn't think I stayed off that war ship because I was afraid, did you?"
"I'm a Fiji if I know why you stayed off," scowled Dick. "That dago captain is hot because he couldn't come aboard the Grampus——"
"He's hot because you refused him the privilege in the way you did."
"Oh, my eye!" scoffed Dick.
The dislike Dick had for Glennie was increased by a vague alarm for Matt, and the ensign and Matt's sailor chum were never nearer an open rupture than at that moment. Dick's fists had clinched, and a dangerous gleam had leaped into Glennie's eyes.
Carl, to his great credit be it stated, interfered. He had as little liking for Glennie as Dick had, but he saw the folly of quarreling under the eyes of the Salvadore's sailors.
"Dot vill do you, Tick!" growled Carl. "You vant dose tagos to t'ink Modor Madd's friendts vas a punch oof yaps? Keep shdill mit yourseluf; und you, Glennie, nodding more schust now, oof you blease."
Glennie turned and walked to the base of the conning tower. There he sat down moodily and watched the war ship, hoping every moment to see Matt reappear.
"I don't like that swab a little bit," muttered Dick to Carl. "There's something wrong with his top-hamper. Do you recollect the time he came aboard the Grampus, Carl? How he laid it down that we were all to 'mister' him?"