“As you please,” said Fraser, staring.
“And you’re master, I s’pose?” said Joe, turning to Fraser.
Fraser, whose manner had already effected the little change rendered necessary by his promotion from mate to master, nodded curtly, and the crew, after another exchange of looks, resumed their work without a word. Their behaviour all day was docile, not to say lamb-like, and it was not until evening that the new skipper found it necessary to enforce his authority.
The exciting cause of the unpleasantness was Mr. William Green, a slim, furtive-eyed young man, whom Fraser took on in the afternoon to fill the vacancy caused by Ben’s promotion. He had not been on board half an hour before trouble arose from his attempt to introduce the manners of the drawing-room into the forecastle.
“Mr. Will-yum Green,” repeated Joe, when the new arrival had introduced himself; “well, you’ll be Bill ’ere.”
“I don’t see why, if I call you Mr. Smith, you shouldn’t call me Mr. Green,” said the other.
“Call me wot?” enquired Joe, sternly; “you let me ’ear you callin’ me mister anythink, that’s all; you let me ’ear you.”
“I’m sure the cook ’ere don’t mind me callin’ ’im Mr. Fisher,” said the new seaman.
“Cert’nly not,” said the gratified cook; “only my name’s Disher.”
The newcomer apologised with an urbanity that rendered Joe and old Ben speechless. They gazed at each other in silent consternation, and then Ben rose.