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Updated: May 3, 2025
The wind had now fallen almost to a calm, and the noise of the sea began also to subside. One of Neb's shouts even appeared to produce an echo. Herbert directed Pencroft's attention to it, adding, "That proves that there is a coast to the west, at no great distance." The sailor nodded; besides, his eyes could not deceive him.
Though Dud and Jim, who both had pocket money in plenty, made arrangements at the Boat Club for the use of a little motor boat several times a week, Dan held his own line as second mate at Killykinick, and was contented to share old Neb's voyaging. They went out often now; for, under the old sailor's guidance, Dan was becoming an expert fisherman.
"Lobsters," replied Captain Jeb. "Them's Neb's lobster pots bobbing up thar, and they've got a catch that will give us a dinner fit for a king." "It's all to your taste," said Brother Bart. "Barrin' fast days, of which I say nothing, I wouldn't give a good Irish stew for all the fish that ever swam the seas. But laddie is thrivin' on the food here, I must say.
But, Grace awaited me. I broke through the throng, and entered the house. In the door I was met by Chloe, a girl about my own sister's age, and a sort of cousin of Neb's by the half-blood, who had been preferred of late years to functions somewhat resembling those of a lady's maid.
An instant later the capybara, dragged to the bank, was killed by a blow from Neb's stick. "Hurrah!" cried Pencroft, who was always ready with this cry of triumph. "Give me but a good fire, and this pig shall be gnawed to the bones!" Pencroft hoisted the capybara on his shoulders, and judging by the height of the sun that it was about two o'clock, he gave the signal to return.
So them 'orders' is all I hev to give: the Padre, being a bit nervous, may hev some of his own; but thar ain't nothing to hurt four strapping younkers round Killykinick except right here. And now, I reckon, it's about time for dinner. I'm ready for some of Neb's clam-chowder, I know; and I guess you are, too."
Dis am a pretty fix los', los' up heah, in de midst of wolves an' painters!" Joe, from behind his rock, wailed mournfully in startling imitation of a panther's call. The darkey almost fell prone in his fright. "Name o' goodness!" he exclaimed. "Wha' dat? Oh oh dere's a painter, now!" Joe called again, more mournfully, more ominously than before. Neb's fright became a trembling panic.
Do not fail, on any account, to write before you go to sea, if you do go to sea, as I hope and trust you will not. Good-bye. To Mr. Miles Wallingford. P.S. Neb's mother protests, if the boy is not home by Saturday night, she will go after him. No such disgrace as a runaway ever befel her or hers, and she says she will not submit to it. But I suppose we shall see him soon, and with him letters.
To descend from the stilts that seemed indispensable to do credit to Neb's imagination, the manner in which I was received by these simple-minded beings was infinitely touching. All the old ones shook hands with me, while the younger of both sexes kept more aloof, until I went to each in succession, and went through the ceremony of my own accord.
His foot struck a flat stone, and he plunged forward, striking the unlatched door so heavily as to swing it open, and fell partially forward into the room. As he struggled to his knees, Neb's black face peering past him into the lighted interior, he seemed to perceive in one swift, comprehensive glance, every revealed detail.
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