"I will shout," he replied. "I want the Old Man to hear. I've a good
mind to go up and tell him."
He started on a fresh tack.
"Why don't the men do something?" he began. "They ought to damn well
make the Old Man put us into port! They ought--"
"For goodness sake, shut up, you little fool!" I said. "What's the good
of talking a lot of damned rot like that? You'll be getting yourself
into trouble."
"I don't care," he replied. "I'm not going to be murdered!"
"Look here," I said. "I told you before, that we shouldn't be able to
see the land, even if we made it."
"You've no proof," he answered. "It's only your idea."
"Well," I replied. "Proof, or no proof, the Skipper would only pile her
up, if he tried to make the land, with things as they are now."
"Let him pile her up," he answered. "Let him jolly well pile her up!
That would be better than staying out here to be pulled overboard, or
chucked down from aloft!"
"Look here, Tammy--" I began; but just then the Second Mate sung out for
him, and he had to go.
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