“No, we hadn’t,” said Rasp, shuffling into the india-rubber garments. “Only just have that there ladder shifted over to port. You can make your plans while I go down tother side and feels about with the iron rod. You two’s administrative; I’m zeketive. I shan’t be happy unless I has a go in.”
The point was yielded, the ladder shifted over to the other side, and in a few minutes Rasp had taken the keen knife and stuck it in his belt, thrown down a long iron rod, and declared himself ready.
“I shall set to work where you left that there spade,” he said. “You’ll see as the wind ain’t stopped, Mr Parkley, sir?”
“Of course,” was the reply.
“And you’ll see as the chube ain’t in no kinks, Mr Pug;” he continued, with a dry chuckling laugh, “and so will I.”
“You may laugh, Rasp,” said Dutch, good-humouredly, “but you will not alter my opinion about it at all.”
“I know that, Mr Pug; I know that,” he chuckled.
“But you haven’t got the life-line attached.”
“Yah! I don’t want no life-lines,” said the old fellow. “I’ve been down too many times.”
“You don’t go down without, Rasp,” said Mr Parkley, authoritatively.