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Updated: May 13, 2025
There's not room to lie down here," assented the sailor, glancing slowly round; "an', to tell 'ee the plain truth, I feel as funky about trustin' myself again to that serpent-like creeper as I felt the first time I went up through the lubber-hole the year I went to sea." "What you's 'fraid ob, Mr 'Ockins?" asked Ebony. "Afraid o' the nasty thing givin' way under my weight.
Being left alone Ebony's courage returned, and with it his enthusiasm. "Come," he muttered, mentally, as he drew the spear from the ground, "'Ockins not killed yet. Das one good job. No use to cry for not'ing. You try again, Ginjah. Better luck nixt time." Greatly encouraged by these thoughts he advanced on tip-toe spear at the charge eyes glancing sharply all round.
You see, wild rugged ground much de same wheder de mountains rise a few t'ousand foot, like dese, or poke der snow-topped heads troo de clouds right away up into de blue sky, like de Andes. Rugged ground is rugged ground, an' hard on de legs all de same, an' dis am rugged 'nuff even for 'Ockins!"
P'r'aps we'd better go for'ard an' trust them." "Trust to 'em, 'Ockins!" said Ebony with a decided shake of the head, "trust men wid brown faces? Nebber!" The whispered conversation ceased at this point for a loud shout of surprise mingled with alarm was raised as the band came to the foot of the cliff and found what appeared to be the dead body of the wounded man.
"Oh! I say, 'Ockins," whispered Ebony at this point, "my mout's a-waterin'." "Well, mine's somethin' in the same way," returned the seaman, "but we haven't a rap to buy with."
Many a queer gale I've come through in time past, but this blow beats 'em all to sticks an' whistles." "Nebber mind, 'Ockins," remarked Ebony, who was busy preparing supper at the time, "we's habbin good times ob it just now. Plenty fun an' lots ob science! Come go at your wittles. We've hard work besides fun before us demorrow."
"So's I, 'Ockins, so you needn't boast," remarked Ebony, as he tenderly felt the place where his wool ought to have been, but where only a few irregularly-shaped patches of scrub remained. We need scarcely say that Mark Breezy did not allow this little contretemps to interfere with his plans.
"Das a most 'straor'nary sight," he said, looking round with glistening eyes and expanded lips at the crowds of people who pressed along the road leading to Zoma, the great market-place. "By the way they stare at you, Ebony," said Hockins, "they evidently think you something 'straor'nary!" "Not at all, 'Ockins. You's wrong, as usual," retorted the negro.
Seizing hold of poor Mamba, without uttering a word they led him away. Hockins instantly followed, and Ebony was about to do the same when Mark laid his hand on his shoulder and checked him. "What would you do, Ebony?" "Look arter 'Ockins, massa." "Hockins is well able to look after himself. No doubt he has gone to see where they take Mamba to. One pair of eyes is enough for that.
'Ockins, blaze away at once!" murmured Ebony, with renewed anxiety, for the "something worse" was to him suggestive of imprisonment, torture, and death! Thus pressed, the seaman put his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew forth his cherished flageolet. In a few minutes the Queen and all her courtiers were enthralled by the music.
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