"You're a lunatic!" he said, again. He repeated the statement several times, as if it were the only thing that sufficiently expressed his opinion of me. Then he let go of my arm, and stepped back a couple of paces.
"I'm not a lunatic!" I said, with a sudden gasp. "I'm not a lunatic,
Sir, any more than you are."
"Why the devil don't you answer my questions then?" he shouted, angrily.
"What's the matter with you? What have you been doing with the ship?
Answer me now!"
"I was looking at that ship away on the starboard quarter, Sir," I blurted out. "She's been signalling—"
"What!" he cut me short with disbelief. "What ship?"
He turned, quickly, and looked over the quarter. Then he wheeled round to me again.
"There's no ship! What do you mean by trying to spin up a cuffer like that?"
"There is, Sir," I answered. "It's out there—" I pointed.
"Hold your tongue!" he said. "Don't talk rubbish to me. Do you think I'm blind?"
"I saw it, Sir," I persisted.