“Thank you, sir. There, I can get on now. I heard about you gentlemen, and I thought I would make bold enough to ask you to take me with you. Sailor, sir,” he continued, turning to Dean. “Turn my hand to anything, sir. Make myself useful. Consul said that a turn up in the mountains would put me right in no time. Make me strong to get a ship again. I arn’t begging, sir. Look here, gentlemen,” and he pulled one of his hands out of his pocket half full of silver.
“I say, Dean,” said Mark, “what are we to do?”
Dean shook his head helplessly. “We can’t take him: we’ve got two men already.”
“I say, look here,” said Mark; “I can’t do as I like, but I will ask my father, and I daresay he will pay your passage home to England.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the man, with a sigh, and he shook his head sadly, “but I don’t think I should live to get there.”
“Oh, don’t talk like that!” cried Dean, and he looked so appealingly at the man that the poor fellow smiled.
“All right, sir, I won’t. They say drowning men catch at straws. I’m kind of drowning like, and when I hears as you gentlemen were going up the country, something seemed to say to me, try ’em, mate; it can’t do no harm. And when I see you two young gents I tried to speak, but somehow I couldn’t, and now I have—well, I have asked you, and you can’t, and I might have made sure of it before.”
“But you see—” began Dean.
“Yes, sir, I understand,” said the man. “Thank you all the same, and good luck to you both.”
He turned quickly and walked feebly away, the two boys watching him, both feeling that they must call him back; but somehow no words came.