"That's Smallbones, I'll swear," cried Jemmy Ducks, who was steering the boat, and who immediately shifted the helm.
But Sir Robert Barclay paused; there was too much at stake to run any risk, even to save the life of a fellow-creature.
"You takes time for to think on it anyhow," cried Smallbones--"you are going for to leave a fellow-christian stuck like a herring in a fishing net, are you? you would not like it yourself, anyhow."
"It is Smallbones, sir," repeated Jemmy Ducks, "and I'll vouch for him as a lad that's good and true."
Sir Barclay no longer hesitated: "Give way, my lads, and pick him up."
In a few minutes, Smallbones was hauled in over the gunnel, and was seated on the stern-sheets opposite to Sir Robert.
"It's a great deal colder out of the water than in, that's sartain," observed Smallbones, shivering.
"Give way, my lads, we've no time to stay," cried Sir Robert.
"Take this, Smallbones," said Jemmy.
"Why, so it is, Jemmy Ducks!" replied Smallbones, with astonishment--"why, how did you come here?"