“You say ‘Sir,’ when you’re spoken to,” said the skipper, fiercely.
The doctor sneered.
“My — if you sneer at me, I’ll knock your head off!” said the other, with a wicked look.
“When you get back to Melbourne,” said the doctor, quietly, “you’ll hear more of this.”
“You’re a couple of pickpockets aping the gentleman,” said the skipper, and he turned to the mate. “Mr. Mackenzie, what do these two ragamuffins look like?”
“Pickpockets,” said the mate, dutifully.
“It’s a very handy thing,” said the old man, jeeringly, “to have a doctor aboard. First time I’ve carried a surgeon.”
Mr. Mackenzie guffawed loudly.
“And a solicitor,” said the skipper, gazing darkly at the hapless Harry Thomson, who was cleaning brasswork. “Handy in case of disputes. He’s a real sea lawyer. Cook!”
“Sir?” said the doctor, quietly.