“Think we shall have any fighting?”
“Afraid not; but you do as I do. I mean to get hold of a cutlass and pistols. I’m not going to risk my valuable life with nothing to preserve it but a ridiculous dirk. Don’t you be downhearted and think that the expedition is coming to grief.”
“Not I,” said Murray cheerily. “I suppose it’s all right; but I couldn’t help thinking what I have told you. I wish I didn’t think such things; but it’s a way I have.”
“Yes,” said his companion, “and any one wouldn’t expect it of you, Franky, seeing what a light-hearted chap you are. It’s a fault in your nature, a thing you ought to correct. If you don’t get over it you’ll never make a dashing officer.”
“Be too cautious, eh?” said Murray good-humouredly.
“That’s it, old chap. Oh, I say, though, I wish it was nearly night, and that we were going off at once. But I say, where’s the Yankee?”
“What!” cried Murray, starting. “Isn’t he alongside in his boat?”
“No; didn’t you see? He came aboard half-an-hour ago. Old Bosun Dempsey fetched him out of his lugger; and look yonder, you croaking old cock raven. We always have one jolly as sentry at the gangway, don’t we?”
“Of course.”
“Very well, look now; there are two loaded and primed ready for any pranks the lugger men might play; and there are the two cutters ready for lowering down at a moment’s notice, and it wouldn’t take long for Dempsey to fizzle out his tune on his pipe and send the crews into them.”