Daygo turned slowly back, and the captain watched the boy with his dark eyes glittering as he sat facing the light.
“Are you going back home?” cried Mike.
“Ay, m’lad, when the skipper’s done with me.”
“Then never mind what he says: you go straight to the Mount and tell my father everything, and that we are kept here like prisoners.”
“Nay, young gen’leman,” said Daygo, rolling his head slowly from side to side, “I warnt you both agen it over and over agen, when you ’most downed on your knees, a-beggin’ and a-prayin’ of me to bring you round by the Scraw; but I never would, now would I, Master Vince?”
“No, you old scoundrel!” cried Vince hotly. “I can see now: because you’re a smuggler too.”
Old Daygo chuckled.
“Didn’t I tell you both never to think about it, because there was awful currents and things as dragged boats under, and that it was as dangerous as it could be? Now speak up like a man, Master Vince, and let Capen Jarks hear the truth.”
“Truth!” said Vince scornfully; “do you call that truth, telling us both a pack of lies, when you must have been coming here often yourself?”
“Eh? Well, s’pose I did, young gen’leman: it was on my lorful business, and you fun out fer yourselves as it’s no place for boys like you.”