“Thought you was going to split on me, sir,” he whispered.
“Then I was right?” said Carey.
“Well, what was the good o’ us going and leaving you behind, my lad? You wouldn’t ha’ liked that?”
“No,” said the boy, drawing a deep breath, as he looked half-wonderingly at the rough old sailor, and thought something about good-heartedness and kindly thought, as he said aloud:
“No, Bob, I don’t think I should have liked that.”
Chapter Nine.
The raft was not launched the next morning, and Bostock did not even begin to make preparations with the blocks and pulleys for getting it over the side.
Carey was rather restless when he went to bed, the thought of the coming change and the idea of gliding over the smooth waters of the lagoon producing in his still weak state enough excitement to keep him awake for hours, so that it was well on towards morning before he went off soundly to sleep; but when he was once off he slept as if he meant to indulge himself for eight-and-forty hours.