As though to confirm his words fearful sounds were heard proceeding from below.
“It’s only the boy,” said the mate, “he’s scared—natural.”
“I thought it was the biler,” said the skipper, with a sigh of relief. “It was loud enough.”
As he spoke the boy got his head out of the hatchway, and, rendered desperate with fear, fairly fought his way past the engineer and gained the deck.
“Very good,” said the engineer, as he followed him on deck and staggered to the side. “I’ve had enough o’ you lot.”
“Hadn’t you better go down to them engines?” shouted the skipper.
“Am I your slave?” demanded the engineer tearfully. “Tell me that. Am I your slave?”
“Go down and do your work like a sensible man,” was the reply.
At these words the engineer took umbrage at once, and, scowling fiercely, removed his greasy jacket and flung his cap on the deck. He then finished the brandy which he had brought up with him, and gazed owlishly at the Kentish shore.
“I’m going to have a wash,” he said loudly, and, sitting down, removed his boots.