“[You’re trespassing,—this is the first-class deck.]”
“What’ll they do to us?” Phyl said, with a hunted glance around.
The boy shrugged his shoulders and gave a low whistle.
“You saw some men sitting across one of the yardarms [131] ]this morning,” he said; “that’s the usual punishment for trespassing on the first-class deck without leave. P’raps though as you’re only girls they won’t make you go so far as the mast,—see that rather low spar-yard up there; I believe that’s the one kept for children.”
Dolly was trembling so violently, Phyl put her own shaking arm round her waist to sustain her; but the boy was looking in front of him and did not notice the exceeding fright. Phyl touched his arm. “No one has seen us—perhaps we could slip down the steps before the captain gets here.”
“Not a bit of it,” said the cruel boy; “I can’t see the law broken in this way, I’m going to give you in charge to one of the officers there.”
A moan of despair broke from Dolly’s pale lips, the tears burst from out her eyes.
“We shall fall in the sea and be drowned,” she said chokingly, “we can’t climb a bit.”
“Well, my crikey!” said the boy, and the next minute Dolly found his arm was round her shoulder, and he was patting her and talking very fast and eagerly. “There, don’t cry, little kid; of course I was only having a lark with you,” he said; “I never thought you’d swallow it. Of course no one will say a word to you—how were you to know the decks? Here, come along, and I’ll show you the barometer and heaps of other things.”