“Was it in the lagoon?”
“Yes, sir, that was it, and then I gets all my things off and wrings ’em, and lays ’em out ready for the sun to shine on when it come up, while I covers myself all over with sand, which was as nyste and warm as getting between blankets.”
“But I thought you said you were swept out into the broad daylight,” cried Oliver.
“No, sir, it was you as said that: I didn’t. I couldn’t cause it was the moon a-shining, and the stars and some o’ them flying sparks in among the trees.”
“Well, you’ve got a rum way of telling a story, Wriggs,” said the mate. “What did you do next?”
“Oh, I snoozed on till it was quite warm, and my clothes was dry, and then I takes my bearin’s and steered off through the woods for port.”
“Did you see any of the blacks?” said the mate.
“No, sir, and didn’t want to. It was black enough for me in that hole underground, to last me for a long time yet. Don’t want any more black, sir, yet, thank-ye.”
“Well, you’re safe back,” said Panton, “and no one is more glad than I am, though we did have all our trouble for nothing, and you may thank Mr Lane and Smith for staying there in the dark waiting till lights were fetched.”
“Did Mr Lane do that, sir?”