'Sheer off, said the Captain. 'Where's the good? retorted the forlorn sage. 'She'd capter me agen. 'Try! replied the Captain. 'Cheer up! Come! Now's your time. Sheer off, Jack Bunsby! Jack Bunsby, however, instead of profiting by the advice, said in a doleful whisper: 'It all began in that there chest o' yourn. Why did I ever conwoy her into port that night?
"Mr Leigh's a lad as would stick to his men like pitch to a ball o' oakum." "Then why don't he?" growled Tom Tully in an ill-used tone. "What does he go and sail away from conwoy for?" "He couldn't have got up the cliffs," mused the gunner; "'cause there don't seem to be no way, and he couldn't have gone more to west'ard, 'cause we must have seen him.
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