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However, the crew was fairly familiar with its duties and the work progressed at a rapid rate. When "Bill" and I reached the paint locker we found several others preparing to convey the oil to the deck. It was a momentary respite, and "Bill" took advantage of it. "When the sun rose the fellows hiding behind the tombstones saw the lazy man open his eyes," he resumed hurriedly.
My long service in the cutter made me perfectly at home; but Dicky Sharpe, who had never been in a small craft in his life, was very soon done up. He threw himself down on a locker in the little cabin aft, looking the very picture of misery. "Oh! D'Arcy, my dear fellow, do have the kindness to heave me overboard," he groaned out.
I asked by way of preface, expecting to find that colonial newspapermen were provincial. "What's the big story?" repeated Kenmore, impatiently pushing aside a long leader on native politics and regarding me thoughtfully. "Well, I'm not superstitious, but a honeymoon spent trying to break into Davy Jones's locker for sunken treasure I guess that's a good story, isn't it?"
One of 'em that youngest Rodman boy can't stand much more of that sail locker in such weather as this. And I guess I don't want to go before a grand jury if he or any of 'em dies." "I tell you, Brant, that rather than ease up on those fellows, I'd lose the ship. I'm going to keep them there till we strike another fish, and then I'll haze what life is left in them clean out of them."
"We shan't sink, Herrick," said Mr Brooke, returning to my side; while, after glancing at my very serious, and at the young lieutenant's stern countenance, Ching crept forward under the oars to where the coxswain was baling, and, getting a second tin from the locker, he seated himself, tucked his loose things out of the way, and began meekly to toss out the water as fast as he could scoop it up.
And now we began to have a little drop ourselves, after towing the prize into port, and recovering the honor of the British navy; and we stood all round to every quarter of the compass, with the bottom of the locker still not come to shallow soundings. But sudden our harmony was spoiled by a scream, like a whistle from the very bottom of the sea.
The mate sat down on a locker and fought for breath. The cook, still pale, felt his small, black mustache and eyed him with triumphant malice. "I told 'im they was your orders," he remarked. "And I told him I didn't believe him," said the mate. "Nobody would. Whoever 'eard of a cook living aft? Why, they'd laugh at the idea."
Thus reassured, the guardian felt better about their situation, though she began to feel dizzy and a few moments later was forced to join Margery in the cabin. Buster was still on the cabin floor, unable to keep on the locker seat. She was tossing from side to side with every roll of the sloop. Four other girls from the camp by this time had sought what comfort was to be had in the cabin.
Biddy parted with the carpet-bag, and Senor Montefalderon, feeling the importance of example, committed to the deep a small writing-desk that he had placed on his knees. The doubloons alone remained, safe in a little locker where Spike had deposited them along with his own.
All these rooms were entirely empty and unused, for the old man kept to one room, a small, remote bedroom, where he was waited upon by an old servant with a kerchief on her head, and by a lad, who used to sit on the locker in the passage.
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