"Thought you knew more about running a ship than I did, eh?"
"I thought it was time to take in sail—and so did the captain."
"Humph! This blow isn't going to kill any body, and we want to take all the advantage of the wind that we can. We are expected to make a quick trip, but we can't do it if we are going to haul down sail all the time."
"I am sure Captain Marshall will do what is right," said Phil.
"Really?" sneered the mate. "I didn't ask you to put in your oar."
"I know you didn't—but my father owns the vessel, and I shall stand by Captain Marshall and by my friend, Dave Porter."
"Oh, so it's something of a plot against me, eh?" snorted the mate, more angry than ever. "Well, don't let it go too far." And he turned into his own room, banging the door after him. A minute later he came out, wearing his raincoat, and hurried out on deck once more.
"He's a real nice man, I don't think," was Roger's comment. "My, how he would lord it over us, if he dared!"
"He is certainly sore," said Phil. "I must say, in a way, he and the supercargo are a team. When I get a chance, I am going to write to father and let him know exactly the sort of fellows they are."
