“Well, but you won’t come near the Crag again if I take you ashore. Sir Francis will have you put in prison, of course. Won’t he, Mike?”
“There’s no doubt about that,” replied Mike.
Daygo groaned.
“Oh, Master Vince—don’t, don’t!” he cried. “I’m an old man now, and it would be so horrible.”
“So it was for our poor people at home; and I know you’ve been pretending you hadn’t seen us.”
“Ay, I’ve been a bad ’un—’orrid bad ’un, sir, but I’m a-repenting now, and going to lead a new life.”
“In prison, Joe.”
“No, no, no, sir,” yelled the miserable wretch. “It ’d kill me. Do be a good gen’leman, and forgive me as you ought to, bad as I’ve been. You untie me and let me run you ashore, and then I raally will sail away.”
“What do you say, Mike?”
“Well, I think we might trust him now. He has been pretty well punished.”