“Get some supper,” said Fraser, “quick.”
“Supper, sir?” said the boy with a surprised yawn.
“And be quick about it,” said the skipper, “and wash you face first and put a comb through your hair. Come, out you get.”
The small sleeper sighed disconsolately, and, first extending one slender leg, clambered out and began to dress, yawning pathetically as he did so.
“And some coffee,” said Fraser, as he lit the lamp and turned to depart.
“Bill,” said the small boy, indignantly.
“Wot d’ye want?” said the seaman.
“’Elp me to wake that drunken pig up,” said the youth, pointing a resentful finger at the cook. “I ain’t goin’ to do all the work.”
“You leave ’im alone,” said Bill, ferociously. The cook had been very liberal that evening, and friendship is friendship, after all.
“That’s what a chap gets by keeping hisself sober,” said the youthful philosopher, as he poured a little cold tea out of the kettle on his handkerchief and washed himself. “Other people’s work to do.”