“That’s a matter of opinion, my boy,” said the doctor, drily.
“’Scuse me, Master Carey, sir,” said the old sailor, with a peculiar smile.
“Excuse you—what for?”
“What I’m going to say, sir,” said the old fellow, as he leaned against the handle of the big oar as he steered. “You’ve got a very nice-looking nose, sir. It’s a bit big for your size, but it’s a nice tempting-looking nose all the same.”
“Is it?” said Carey, shortly, and his disengaged hand went up to the organ in question. “I daresay it is. I don’t know; but why do you want to meddle with it?”
“I don’t, sir; I only want to keep anything else from having a go at it.”
“What is likely to have a ‘go’ at it, as you say?”
“Young shark might be tempted, sir.”
“Pooh! Nonsense! But are there sharks in this lagoon?”
“Thousands, I’ll be bound, sir. So don’t you never try to bathe. What do you say to running up between those two bits of bare reef, sir—sort o’ canal-like place? We could run right up to the sand there.”