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"What's the matter?" she asked with some anxiety. The driver, descending leisurely from his seat, regarded her with a complete lack of interest. "That's just w'ot I'm goin' to find out," he replied in a detached way.
At first the western horizon looked empty, then along its level line his eye caught two tiny marks against the brilliant sky. As it was too small for his naked eyes, he resorted to the binoculars once more. Caradoc was doing the same thing. "W'ot is it, sir?" inquired Malone anxiously.
"And w'ot might your game be?" he inquired, with that supercilious air inseparable to plush and gold braid; "oh, I know your kind, I do I know yer!" "Then, fellow," quoth I, "I know not thee, by Thor, I swear it and Og the Terrible, King of Bashan!" "'Ogs is it?" said he indignantly, "don't get trying to come over me with yer 'ogs; no nor yet yer fellers!
So when she comes, an' finds as it ain't all been took, or, as you might say, vanished away, why the question as I ax's you is, w'ot will she say? Oh Lord!" And here, Adam gave vent to his great laugh which necessitated an almost superhuman exertion of strength to keep the table from slipping from its precarious perch.
Dem guys is swells, too, bet yer life, an' der old 'un stacks dem sacks of dough down under his trotters like dey was common as dried apples. Been shoppin' for Chrismus, and de kid's lost one of her new socks w'ot she was goin' to hold up Santy wid. De bloomin' little skeezicks! Wit' her 'Mer-ry Chris-mus! W'ot d' yer t'ink!
The wounded men dodged below the rail again, but no bullets came. This light was not stationary. It crept down through the inky sea toward the fugitives and grew larger and brighter in their eyes. "W'ot is that?" cried several apprehensive voices. Caradoc stood erect by the rail, watching this new development. "Malone," he called to the man hidden on the bridge, "what speed can this boat make?"
"W'ot is it?" he whispered, still peering into the half-faces seen in the round hole. "Madden and Smith." "W'ot!" "Yes." "Great sharks! W'ot you lads doin' 'ere?" "Came off the tug what is this?" "W'ot is w'ot?" "This ship we're on?" It seemed as if Malone's little eyes would pop out of his head. "W'ot didn't they ketch you? You don't mean to say you you jest straggled aboard?" "Sure we did.
Greer paused in his work to wave a hand, which was extremely sociable for him. The men bunched on the forward pontoon, waved and shouted at the little boat. As the noise grew louder, questions shaped themselves in the uproar. "W'ot did ye make of 'er?" "Was there anywan aboard?" "W'ot ship is she?" "Can we git a berth hoff this bloomin' dock?"
"You boys saw a shark or porpoise swimming away from that schooner," he began patiently. "I saw it myself. You recall, on that night anything that moved in the water burned like fire. The ship was brilliant, the oars of the dinghy shone. The thing you saw had nothing to do with the schooner." "Then w'ot sunk 'er, sor?" "Aye, an' w'ot come of 'er men, sor?"
Her small boats were in place, but he saw neither life nor movement aboard. She appeared as deserted as a pile of scrap iron. "W'ot are they doin'?" queried Galton. "Nothing." Madden was puzzled over the strange condition of the tug. "Ain't they crowdin' to th' side, sir, lookin' at us and fixin' to come to us?" "Nobody's on her," replied Madden. "At least I don't see anyone." "W'ot! W'ot!
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