“Never you mind. You bring ’em down from the carts: we know what we’re doing.”
There was a sound of departing footsteps, and Hilary listened intently.
“Ah!” said one of the men, “if I was the skipper I’d send the young Tom chicken about his business; but the skipper says he knows too much.”
“How long’s he going to keep him then?”
“Altogether, I s’pose, unless he likes to join us.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the other, who was evidently moving something heavy.
“Well, he might do worse, my lad. Anyhow, they ar’n’t going to let him go and bring that cutter down upon us.”
“No, that wouldn’t do. Lend a hand here. This bag’s heavy. What’s in it?”
“I don’t know. Feels like lead. P’r’aps it is.”
“Think the cutter will hang about long?”