Not far. The galley door was open, and close at hand. Into it he
darted like a fox into its hole, and Steve stood alone, covered with
feathers, to face the captain and Mr Handscombe, who, hearing the
scuffling forward, hurried up to see the cause.
"Highly creditable, upon my word!" cried Captain Marsham, frowning.
"Could not you find anything more sensible to do than to get into this
disgraceful quarrel with the ship's boy?"
Steve stood breathing hard, flushed with anger and mortification.
"I'd try a sweep next time, Stephen," said the doctor sarcastically; "he
would not come off worse upon you than this fellow has done."
"He insulted and struck me," stammered Steve. "You would not have had
me stand still and submit to that, sir?"
"I don't want to hear anything about it," said the captain sternly; "it
is disgraceful, and I gave you credit for knowing better."
The captain walked back to the companion hatch and descended to the
cabin, leaving Steve, the doctor, Hamish, and Andrew looking at each
other.
"Well, sir," said the doctor, "you've done it this time. Have you any
idea what an object you look?"
"No," said Steve, in a tone of voice which told of his mortification.
"Go to your cabin, then, and look in the glass. I should prescribe a
little water, too!"
"Hadn't I better jump overboard for it, then?" cried Steve bitterly.
"Bah! Rubbish! Don't talk nonsense!" cried the doctor, catching the
lad by the arm.
"Why, what's the matter?" said the mate, coming up hurriedly.
"Oh, nothing much. We've had an accident, and spilt some feathers about
the deck, and it has made the captain angry about the way in which it
was done. Have them cleared up, man. Come along, Steve lad; and don't
look like that," he whispered, as he half dragged the lad away.