“Why do you do it, then, my lad?” inquired the Captain, not unnaturally.
Bunsby, still looking, and always looking with an immovable countenance, at the opposite side of the world, made no reply.
“Why not sheer off?” said the Captain. “Eh?” whispered Bunsby, with a momentary gleam of hope.
“Sheer off,” said the Captain.
“Where’s the good?” retorted the forlorn sage. “She’d capter me agen.”
“Try!” replied the Captain. “Cheer up! Come! Now’s your time. Sheer off, Jack Bunsby!”
Jack Bunsby, however, instead of profiting by the advice, said in a doleful whisper:
“It all began in that there chest o’ yourn. Why did I ever conwoy her into port that night?”
“My lad,” faltered the Captain, “I thought as you had come over her; not as she had come over you. A man as has got such opinions as you have!”
Mr Bunsby merely uttered a suppressed groan.