“That is very likely,” said Harry; “our schooner is only a make shift.”
“I should call it a fraud.”
“Call it what you like, and you won’t call it out of its name, but I say, have you any more life belts left?”
“They are hanging up there by the half dozen.”
“Go and get some, there’s a good fellow.”
Mr. Mole looked sternly at Girdwood.
“Harry,” he cried, “when did your nigger die? Am I to be your servant?”
“No, sir.”
“Are we not all equal here?”
“I hope so.”