"I am very glad, Mr Rattlin," said the captain, approvingly, "to see
you so attentive to your duty. No doubt you went up of your own accord
to count the convoy?"
"Indeed, sir," said I, with a great deal of humility, "I did not."
"What--how? I thought when I came on deck I heard you singing out."
"I was mast-headed, sir."
"Mast-headed! How--for what?"
At this question, revenge, with her insidious breath, came whispering
her venom into my ear; but a voice, to the warnings of which I have too
seldom attended, seemed to reverberate in the recesses of my heart, and
say, "Be generous." If I had told the truth maliciously, I should have
assuredly have drawn ridicule, and perhaps anger, on the head of the
lieutenant, and approbation to myself. I therefore briefly replied,
"For impertinence to Mr Silva, sir."
And I was amply repaid by the eloquent look that, with eyes actually
moistened, my late persecutor cast upon me. I read the look aright, and
knew, from that moment, that he was deserving of better things than a
continued persecution for having unfortunately misapplied an expression.
I immediately made a vow that I would read the "Tour up and down the
Rio de la Plate," with exemplary assiduity.
"I am glad," said the captain, "that you candidly acknowledge your
offence, instead of disrespectfully endeavouring to justify it. I hope,
Mr Silva, that it is not of that extent to preclude me from asking him
to breakfast with us this morning?"
"By no means," said Silva, his features sparkling with delight; "he is a
good lad: I have reason to say, a very good lad."
I understood him; and though no explanations ever took place between us,
we were, till he was driven from the ship, the most perfect friends.
"Well," said the captain, as he turned go down the quarter-deck ladder,
"you will, at the usual time, both of you, _pave your way into the
cabin_. I am sure, Mr Silva, you won't object to that, though I have
not yet made up my mind as to the propriety of the expression, so we'll
have the purser, and talk it over in a friendly, good-humoured way."
And saying this, he disappeared, with a look of merry malignancy that no
features but his own could so adequately express.
The scene at the breakfast-table was of the usual description.
Authority, masking ill-nature under the guise of quizzing, on the one
hand, and literary obstinacy fast resolving itself into deep personal
hostility on the other.