“Shoot um—shoot um—bing, bang!” whop went Jimmy’s waddy on the deck; and in dread lest they should fire at the unfortunate dog in the dark, I went up and told the captain, the result being that Gyp was called up on deck, and the great beast nearly went mad with delight, racing about, fawning on his master and on me, and ending by crouching down at my feet with his tongue lolling out, panting and blinking his eyes, unaccustomed to the glare of daylight.
“You’re in this game, then, eh, Master Carstairs?” said the captain.
“Well, yes, sir; Penny here took me into his confidence about having brought the dog, and of course I could not say a word.”
“Humph! Nice game to have with me, ’pon my word. You’re a pretty penny, you are, young man,” he added, turning to Jack. “I ought to toss you—overboard.”
“I’ll pay for Gyp’s passage,” said Jack coolly. “I wish you wouldn’t make such a fuss.”
The captain muttered something about double-jointed yard measures, and went forward without another word, while Gyp selected a nice warm place on the deck, and lay down to bask on his side, but not until he had followed Jimmy up the port-side and back along the starboard, sniffing his black legs, while that worthy backed from him, holding his waddy ready to strike, coming to me afterwards with a look of contempt upon his noble savage brow, and with an extra twist to his broad nose, to say:
“Jimmy know all a time only big ugly dog. Not bunyip ’tall.”