and I felt as though I could fling down my hat and dance on it from sheer mortification, as I once saw the skipper of an Italian barque do because his duffer of a mate got into a mess with his anchors when making a flying moor in a roadstead full of ships.

I asked myself, seeing him there apparently so much at ease--is he silly?
is he callous?
He seemed ready to start whistling a tune.

And note, I did not care a rap about the behaviour of the other two.

Their persons somehow fitted the tale that was public property, and was going to be the subject of an official inquiry.

"That old mad rogue upstairs called me a hound," said the captain of the Patna.