“I tell you she is. They’ve got her there, and the sailors are trying to milk her.”
“Then I wish ’em luck,” said Jemmy. “There’s only one man as can milk Tally, and that’s me.”
“Turn the boat’s head, and let’s go for her.”
“Ck!” ejaculated Jemmy again. “What a one you are to joke, Ram Shackle; but it won’t do this mornin’. I’m burst up with sleep.”
“Open your stupid eyes, and look for once. I tell you they’ve got Tally on the deck of the cutter.”
“And I tell you, you young Ram Shackle, I’m too sleepy to see fun anywhere. Won’t do, my lad—won’t do.”
Ram jumped up, stepped over the thwart, seized the man’s head, and screwed it round toward the cutter, where the scene previously described was plain in the sunshine.
“Well!” ejaculated Jemmy, “so she be.”
“Why couldn’t you believe me before, when I told you?”
“Thought you was gammoning me, my lad!”