“Hullo!” cried Bostock; “you haven’t eat all that damper.”
“Jackum eat allum damper, allum ticky-ticky. Good!” cried the black, grinning.
“Well, I couldn’t ha’ done it myself in the time,” said Bostock. “Here, lay hold.”
He pointed to the partially demolished light, which the black seized and wrenched off, threw it down on the deck, and then, without hesitation, glided through, and dropped softly into the saloon cabin.
“You go next, Bob.”
“Nay, sir, oughtn’t you to order me on guard to shoot down the enemy if he comes on deck?” Carey nodded.
“Yes, keep watch,” he said. “I’ll go down.” The way was easy enough now, and the next minute Carey was on the saloon table, from which he leaped to the floor, to face Jackum, who cried, eagerly:
“Doctor. Jackum know.”
The black led the way to the captain’s cabin, and there was a faint cry of delight as the boy sprang forward and let his gun drop against the locker, to grasp Doctor Kingsmead’s extended hands.
“Oh, doctor, doctor!” he cried. “At last! at last! But how thin and white you look.”