“Well, praps I should,” said Ram, laughing; “but, as we didn’t neither of us go over, it’s no use to talk about it. My! How it does ache!”
He turned himself a little, so as to plant his back against the rock, and let his legs hang down over the edge.
“That’s more comf’table. Bit of a rest. Hard work getting down here and wrastling.”
Archy was in so cramped and awkward a position, half kneeling, that he followed his companion’s example, shuddering slightly, though, as he let his legs go down, and put his hands beside him to press his back firmly against the rock.
“Frightened?” said Ram, who was watching him.
“I don’t know about being frightened. It would be a terrible fall.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Ram, leaning forward and gazing down into the void. “Water’s precious deep here. Such lots of great conger eels, six foot long, ’bout the holes in the bottom. Jemmy Dadd and me’s caught ’em before now. Most strong enough to pull you out of the boat. Dessay, if you went down, you’d come up again, but you couldn’t get ashore.”
“Why? A good swimmer could get round the point there, and make for the ledge where I saw you and that man land.”
“No, you couldn’t,” said Ram; “it’s hard work to get round there with a boat. You do have to pull. That’s where the race is, and it would carry you out to—oh?”
The boy was looking down between his legs as he spoke; and the midshipman just had time to dart forward his hand, catch him by the shoulder, and drag him back, or he would have gone off the rock.