His tone was peremptory, and as usual it had its due effect. The fellows ate their breakfast quietly and said no more about it.
The meal was rather a protracted one, owing to Rathbone having forgotten to put the bag in the coffee-pot before he inserted the coffee, and thus spoiling the beverage altogether. He was sent back to make it over again—a circumstance which by no means had the effect of soothing his spirits.
By the time breakfast was done the hour had nearly arrived when our prisoners were to give their answers to our manifesto.
As we were preparing to march up stairs, with a view to ascertain their decision, Hawkesbury met us, coming down with his hat on.
“Where are you going?” demanded Smith.
Hawkesbury looked very pleasant indeed as he replied, “Oh, please don’t mind me. I’m going out for a walk. I’ve got a headache, and really I don’t see much use playing about indoors.”
Smith’s face darkened. “Didn’t you hear me say there was no going out?” he said.
Hawkesbury smiled and seemed much amused. Smith’s wrath was rising apace. “What I said I’ll stick to!” cried he, standing across the step. “You sha’n’t go out!”
“Hawkesbury,” I interposed, anxious to avert a row, “we’ve all promised to obey the captain, you know.”
“Really,” replied Hawkesbury, “I didn’t. Please let me pass, Smith.”