He liked Clif exceedingly. He admired him for his manliness, and looked upon him as ideal in every particular. His friendship for the sturdy plebe was that of the faithful dog for his master.
Now, while the cadet corporal was doing his utmost to provoke Clif into some breach of discipline, Nanny watched and listened with a growing purpose in his heart.
Cadet Corporal Sharpe finally exhausted his vocabulary of invectives, and was forced to resume the instruction. The group was gathered about the forward pin rail to which a portion of the running rigging leads.
The young non-commissioned officer knew his business, however overbearing and tyrannical he might be. The maze of ropes leading here and there was not a maze to him.
Placing his hand on one he said, abruptly, still addressing Clif:
“This is the fore-to-’gallant halliards. What is it’s use, sir?”
“To hoist the fore-to-’gallant yard, sir,” was Clif’s prompt reply.
“Humph! it’s a wonder you knew that. Who told you? Where did you read it? Humph! I guess you don’t know much more. Now, what’s this?”
He touched a thin manilla rope apparently twisted with several others. Clif looked aloft trying to follow it with his eye.
“What are you gaping about?” snapped the corporal.