“But what are they going to do?” said the sailor, eagerly. “They can’t put in anywhere, and as soon as this day’s work’s known, they’ll have a man-o’-war sent after ’em.”
“Sorra a wan o’ me knows,” said Dinny; “but it’s moighty plisant out here. I’m toired o’ pipe-claying me belts and marching and being senthry, and they may make me prishner as long as they like.”
“You didn’t half-kill one of them, and they don’t bear malice against you,” said the sailor, thoughtfully.
“An’ is it malice? Why, didn’t I thry to run wan of ’em through wid me bagnet, and attimpt to shoot the other! Malice! I belave they liked it, for we’ve been the best o’ friends iver since. Here, Bart, me lad; Dick here wants to shake hands with yez.”
“I don’t,” said the sailor, sternly; but as Bart came from where he had been taking a pull at one of the ropes, smiling and open-handed, Dick’s face relaxed.
“That was a pretty good wrastle,” said Bart, running his eye approvingly over the physique of his late opponent, and gripping Dick’s hand heartily; “but I got the best of you.”
Dick did not answer, but he returned the grip, and Bart went aft directly to relieve Jack at the tiller, while the darkness came on rapidly, and with it the breeze increased in force till the cutter careened over and rapidly left the island behind.
“Well, Dennis Kelly,” said the sailor, as they sat together on board later, with the stars gathering overhead, and faint sounds wafted to them from time to time as they glided rapidly along a few miles from land, “you can only make one thing of it, my boy, and that’s piracy; and piracy’s yard-arm, and a swing at the end of the rope.”
“Ah! get along wid ye,” said Dinny, contemptuously, “and don’t call things by bad names. They’re three very plisant fellows, and they’ve borried the boat and taken us prishners to help them in the cruise; or, if ye like it better, we’re pressed men.”
“But what are they going to do next?”