"Why didn't you wait when I hailed you?" demanded the skipper fiercely.
"How was I to know it was you?" inquired the mate surlily, as he
realised his defeat. "I thought it was the Empress of Rooshia."
The skipper stared at him dumbly.
"An' if you take my advice," said the mate, with a sneer, "you'll keep
them things on. _I_ never see you look so well in anything afore."
"I want to borrow some o' your clothes, Bob," said the skipper, eyeing
him steadily.
"Where's your own?" asked the other.
"I don't know," said the skipper. "I was took with a fit last night,
Bob, and when I woke up this morning they were gone. Somebody must have
took advantage of my helpless state and taken 'em."
"Very likely," said the mate, turning away to shout an order to the
crew, who were busy setting sail.
"Where are they, old man?" inquired the skipper.
"How should I know?" asked the other, becoming interested in the men
again.
"I mean YOUR clothes," said the skipper, who was fast losing his temper.
"Oh, mine?" said the mate. "Well, as a matter o' fact, I don't like
lending my clothes. I'm rather pertickler. You might have a fit in
THEM."
"You won't lend 'em to me?" asked the skipper.
"I won't," said the mate, speaking loudly, and frowning significantly at
the crew, who were listening.
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