"
"You think you're a fine feller," continued the engineer, "standing up
there an' playing with that little wheel. You think you're doing all the
work. What's the boy doing? Send him down to stoke."
"Go down," said the skipper, grinning with fury, and the boy reluctantly
obeyed.
"You think," said the engineer pathetically, after he had cuffed the
boy's head and dropped him down below by the scruff of his neck, "you
think because I've got a black face I'm not a man. There's many a hoily
face 'ides a good 'art."
"I don't think nothing about it," grunted the skipper; "you do your
work, and I'll do mine."
"Don't you give me none of your back answers," bellowed the engineer,
"'cos I won't have 'em."
The skipper shrugged his shoulders and exchanged glances with his
sympathetic mate. "Wait till I get 'im ashore," he murmured.
"The biler is wore out," said the engineer, re-appearing after a hasty
dive below. "It may bust at any moment."
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.
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