"Yes—yes, I hear; keep speaking, Jube, but not too loud. What a noise the water makes to-night, and the ship pitches so I can hardly stand. Oh, here you are, dear Jube; just hold out your hands, to steady me. What's that?"
"Only the handcuffs; but don't you mind, they don't amount to much after all—screwed a little tight—but not unpleasant, if it wasn't for that."
"Chained you—chained you!" said the boy, in a voice of such keen anguish that Jube forced a little, hoarse laugh, in order to convince him that being chained hand and foot, in the black hold of a vessel, was rather a refreshing amusement than otherwise. "Why, it ain't nothing, little master, just see here!"
He tried to lift his hands, but the iron galled his wrists, and forced a groan from his brave heart.
"Oh, Jube, Jube, they will murder you!"
"Not they—why it's nothing."
"Let me help you hold the irons up, they drag on your poor hands—there, does that make them lighter?"
"A good deal, little master; every thing is light when you come to see Jube."
The gentle boy had knelt down in the darkness, and was striving to hold up the chains that dragged in rusty links from the poor fellow's hands.
"Are you hungry, Jube?"