Laying the Train.
The dangerous preparations were soon made, and Tom May’s and his comrades’ hands were plainly seen trembling as they handled their kegs.
“Look at that now, sir,” said the big sailor. “Did you ever see such a set o’ cowards in your life?”
“Cowards, Tom? Never,” said Murray, who was all of a quiver too.
“More did I, sir. I wouldn’t ha’ believed I could ha’ been in such a shiver and shake. I supposed it’d be for fear we shouldn’t be ready for the warmint; but it don’t look like it, do it?”
“Yes, Tom, for your hands are steady enough now you’ve done.”
“Well, I hope so, sir,” said the man, “because it seems such a bad example to the lads, and they’ve all ketched it. Hullo, darkie! What, are you shaking too?”
“Yes, Massa Tom,” replied the black, with his teeth chattering. “Caesar drefful frighten we no get the gunpowder go off when Massa Huggin man come. You let Caesar take lilly barrel now and light um, massa.”
“Why, here’s another awfully cowardly chap, Mr Murray, sir. It’s a rum un, arn’t it?”
“You make has’e, Massa Tom May; not talkee so much palaver,” cried the trembling black, seizing hold of one of the barrels and hoisting it upon his shoulder. “You bring candle; set light.”