It roused his enmity now.
When Dyck came down, he had the gunners called to him, admonishing them that drill must go on steadily, and promising them good work to do.

Then he turned to the ordinary seamen.
At this moment Nick Swaine strode forward within a dozen feet of Dyck.
"Look there!" he said, and he jerked a finger towards the distant Portsmouth fleet.

"Look there! You've passed that." Dyck shrugged a shoulder.
"I meant to pass it," he said quietly.
"Give orders to make for it," said Nick with a sullen eye.
"I shall not.

And look you, my man, keep a civil tongue to me, who command this ship, or I'll have you put in irons." "Have me put in irons!" Swaine cried hotly.

"This isn't Dublin jail.