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"But there's nothing to hold by, Jem, when you move away." "Then you must stand fast, sir, and I'll balance you like. I can do it." Don drew a long breath, and felt no faith, for as soon as Jem moved steadily from the wall, his ability in balancing was not great. "Stand firm, sir. I've got you," he said. "Am I too heavy, Jem?" "Heavy? No, sir; I could carry two on you. Stand fast; 'tarn't far.
"Come, I say, Mark, stick it on," cried Dick Winthorpe; "we want to go." "'Tarn't hot enough, my lad," said the great burly wheelwright, rolling his shirt sleeves a little higher up his brown arms. "Yes, it is," said Tom Tallington. "You can see it all red. Why don't you put it on cold, instead of burning the wood?" "'Cause he can't make one fit, and has to burn it on," said Dick.
"Yes," said Jem, producing his bag. "'Tarn't very good. Say, Mas' Don, if he came to see us in Bristol, we could give him a bit o' real old Charlestown, spun or leaf." "Could you, though?" said the man, filling his pipe. "Yes; my uncle is a large sugar and tobacco merchant," said Don. "Then how came you to be a sailor boy? I know, you young dog; you ran away. Well, I did once."
"No, sir, I arn't; 'strue as goodness I arn't." "But you are," cried Aleck, angrily, as he now grasped the full misfortune to his boat not the very full, for he was not aware of the hole in her bottom. "Your fingers are clasped tightly round the rope." "Are they, sir?" "Yes." "'Tarn't my doing then, sir. I hoped and prayed as they might hold on to the last, and I s'pose that's how it is. Ah-h!"
"That's one of our blacky-toppers, sir. 'Tarn't a English groan. You feel; you'll know him by his woolly head, and nose. If he's got a nose hooked one way, it's Soup. If it's hooked t'other way cocks up it's Taters." "The hair is curly," said Mark, who was investigating. "P'raps it's Dick Bannock, sir. There, I said it warn't an English groan."
Oh dear, what a cruel thing it seems! I'm very sorry for you, Mas' Don, that I am, 'specially when I think of what a fine dashing young fellow like " "Don't humbug, Mike." "Nay, not I, my lad; 'tarn't likely. You know it's true enough. You're one of the young fellows as is kep' out of his rights. I know what I'd do if I was you." "What?" "Not be always rubbing my nose again a desk.
There was silence for a few moments, and Morny, who was gazing upwards, seemed to be all eyes and ears. "Can't you see it, Master Rodd?" repeated Joe. "No." "Perhaps 'tarn't land, then, sir." "No. It was all your fancy. There's nothing to be seen." "Where are you looking, sir?" "At a little low bank of pale misty cloud. That's all, Joe. Your eyes want a good rub." "Dessay they do, sir.
Then he forced himself to think out a way of escape, a little further conversation with Jem making him feel that he must depend upon himself, for poor Jem's injury seemed to make him at times confused; in fact, he quite startled his fellow-prisoner by exclaiming suddenly, "Now where did I put them keys?" "Jem!" "Eh? All right, Sally. 'Tarn't daylight yet."
"No, Master Fred; I'll promise you that, faithful like; but it do seem rum. 'Tarn't likely, you know, sir, 'tarn't likely." "What isn't likely?" "Why, that aren't, sir. Even if Master Scar is hiding there." "If? He must be. Nobody else knows of the existence of the place." "Wouldn't our Nat, sir?" "No. How could he?"
"I should ha' gone by that tree a hundred times without thinking it was good to eat. What's it like, Mas' Don?" "Something like stalky celery, or nut, or pear, all mixed up together." "Yes; 'tarn't bad," said Jem. "What's he doing now?" Ngati was busily hunting about for something, peering amongst the trees, but he did not seem to find that of which he was in search.
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