“Like me to go ashore, sir, to that Chinesy sweetstuff shop, to get you one o’ their sweet cool drinks, sir?” said one of the men, after we had sat there roasting for some time.
“No, thank you, Tom Jecks,” I said, in as sarcastic a tone as I could assume. “Mr Barkins says you are such a forgetful fellow, and you mightn’t come back before the captain.”
There was a low chuckling laugh at this, and then came a loud rap.
“What’s that?” I said sharply.
“This here, sir,” said another of the men. “Some ’un’s been kind enough to send it. Shall I give it him back?”
“No, no!” I cried, looking uneasily shoreward; and at that moment a stone, as large as the one previously sent, struck me a sharp blow on the leg.
“They’re a-making cockshies of us, sir,” said Tom Jecks; “better let two of us go ashore and chivvy ’em off.”
“Sit still, man, and—”
Whop!
“Oh, scissors!” cried a sailor; “who’s to sit still, sir, when he gets a squad on the back like that? Why, I shall have a bruise as big as a hen’s egg.”