Objects began to stand out clearly in the growing light, and three dispirited girls put their heads out from their blankets and sniffed disdainfully at the sharp morning air. Then after an animated discussion they arose, and casting their blankets aside, walked up to the skipper and eyed him thoughtfully.
“As easy as easy,” said Jenny Evans confidently, as she drew herself up to her full height, and looked down at the indignant man.
“Why, he isn’t any bigger than a boy,” said Miss Williams savagely.
“Pity we didn’t think of it before,” said Miss Davies. “I s’pose the crew won’t help him?”
“Not they,” said Miss Evans scornfully. “If they do, we’ll serve them the same.”
They went off, leaving the skipper a prey to gathering uneasiness, watching their movements with wrinkled brow. From the forecastle and the galley they produced two mops and a broom, and he caught his breath sharply as Miss Evans came on deck with a pot of white paint in one hand and a pot of tar in the other.
“Now, girls,” said Miss Evans.
“Put those things down,” said the skipper in a peremptory voice.
“Sha’n’t,” said Miss Evans bluntly. “You haven’t got enough on yours,” she said, turning to Miss Davies. “Don’t spoil the skipper for a ha’porth of tar.”
At this new version of an old saw they laughed joyously, and with mops dripping tar and paint on the deck, marched in military style up to the skipper, and halted in front of him, smiling wickedly.