“Oh, Master Carey, don’t tell on a fellow,” whispered Bostock.
“You’re just in time. The raft’s done. Bostock has just driven in the last nail.”
“Glad to hear it,” said the doctor. “Then I suppose we may get her into the water to-morrow.”
“Yes, sir, she’ll do now,” growled the old sailor.
“That’s right,” said the doctor. “Look here, Carey, my lad, we’ll try how she rides in the water to-morrow, and if she’s all right, I think we might swing you down in a chair from a block, and you might go with us, for you need not exert yourself in the least. You would sit in the chair.”
“Yes,” cried the boy, eagerly. “I feel sure it wouldn’t hurt me a bit.”
“What do you say, Bostock? Could we manage?”
“That we could, sir; wrap him up and drop him down so as we shouldn’t disturb a fly on him.”
“Then we’ll try,” said the doctor, to the boy’s great delight.
A few minutes later Bostock watched for his chance when the doctor had gone below, and went up to Carey’s chair.