“Wounds?”
“Yes, sir; skeeters. Trunks as big as elephants. They’d have sucked poor Jem here quite dry, only he did as I did, made it up with water, and there was plenty of that.—But you’ve come to fetch us, haven’t you?”
“No; only to set you on the alert.”
“On the which, sir? What ship’s that?”
“Nonsense!” cried Poole. “We are all coming down to get on board the schooner as quickly as we can.”
“And a blessed good thing too,” growled the other man. “But you’d better stop where y’are, for this ’ere’s an awful place. Anybody might have my job for me.”
“Yes,” said Poole, “I know it must have been terribly bad, but we are off again directly with the news that you two are all right.”
“That we are which, sir?” said the first speaker. “Oh, I say, Mr Poole, sir, don’t go and tell the skipper a lie like that.”
“No, no; of course I’ll tell him about how you have suffered; but we haven’t been lying in feather-beds up there. Here, I say, Fitz, don’t laugh.”
“I couldn’t help it,” cried Fitz.