“Bah! Pish! Pooh! and the rest of it. What do you mean by that? Look, the lugger is a fast sailer.”
“Well, I dare say she is, but one of our little brass guns can send balls that sail through the air much faster. So drop all those dismal prophecies and damping thoughts about danger. Our officers know their way about and have got their eyes open. The skipper knows about everything, and what he doesn’t know bully Anderson tells him. It’s all right, Franky. Just look at the lads! Why, there’s Tom May smiling as if he’d filled his pockets full of prize money.”
“Yes,” assented Murray, “and the other lads have shaped their phizzes to match. But let’s get closer to the lugger.”
“What for?” said Roberts sharply.
“To have a good look at her Indiarubber-cultivating crew.”
“Not I!” cried Roberts. “If we go there you’ll begin to see something wrong again, and begin to croak.”
“No, no; honour bright! If I do think anything, I won’t say a word.”
“I’d better keep you here out of temptation,” said Roberts dubiously.
“Nonsense! It’s all right, I tell you. There, come along.”