“Morn’—or art’noon, young gen’leman,” said Daygo, by way of salutation. “Lookye here: I’m going out ’sart’noon to take up my pots and nets, and if you and young squire likes to come, I’ll take you for a sail.”
“Where will you take us?” said Vince eagerly.
“Oh, round and about, and in and out among the rocks.”
“Will you sail right away round by the Black Scraw?”
“No, I just won’t,” growled the old man fiercely. “What do you want to go round about the Scraw for?”
“To see what it’s like, and find some of the terrible currents and things you talked about, Joe.”
“Lookye here, my lad,” growled the old fellow, “as I told you boys afore, I want to live as long as I can, and not come to no end, with the boat bottom uppards and me sucked down by things in the horrid whirlypools out there. Why, what would your mars and pars say to me if I took you into dangers ’orrible and full o’ woe? Nay, nay, I arn’t a young harem-scarem-brained chap, and I shan’t do it: my boat’s too good. So look here, if you two likes to come for a bit o’ fishing, I’ll take the big scrarping spoon with me, and go to a bank I know after we’ve done, and try and fish you up a basket o’ oysters. If you comes you comes, but if you arn’t wi’ me soon arter dinner, why, I hystes my sail and goes by myself. So what do you say?”
“I can’t say anything without seeing Mike Ladelle first. Look here: I’m going to him this afternoon, and if he’ll come, we’ll run over to the little dock where your boat is.”
“Very good, young gen’leman; on’y mind this: if you arn’t there punctooal, as folks call it, I’m off without you, and you’ll be sorry, for there’s a powerful lot o’ fish about these last few days.”
“Don’t wait if we’re not there directly after dinner,” said Vince.