“Dill, dill, dill; will yer come and be killed?”
“What do they want, Herrick? To inveigle us ashore?”
“I know, sir for the reason of their excitement now came to me like a flash, and I wondered that I had not thought of it before.”
“Well, then. Speak out if you do know, my lad.”
“That’s it, sir. We’ve got a boat they know, and they think we’re stealing it.”
“Tut, tut, tut. Of course. That explains it. Very sorry, my friends, but we cannot spare it yet. You shall have her back and be paid for the use of it, when we’ve done with her.”
The shouts, gesticulations, and general excitement increased, two men now beckoning imperiously, and it was evident that they were ordering us to come to the landing-place at once.
“No, my friends,” said Mr Brooke, “we are not coming ashore. We know your gentle nature too well. But Ching is not coming, Herrick, so we’ll heave up the grapnel and be off.”
The crowd was now dense, and the excitement still increasing, but the moment they saw our coxswain, in obedience to an order given by Mr Brooke—in spite of an appealing look, and a request for another ten minutes—begin to haul up the rough grapnel, the noise ashore was hushed, and the gesticulations ceased.
“Five minutes more, Mr Brooke,” I whispered; “I feel sure that Ching will come.”