“Indeed!”
“Yes, sir; I wasn’t at all brave over it.”
“Steady, my lad—steady!” said Josh in a reproving tone. “I think you did well. P’raps the gentleman would like to go now to Blee Vor.”
“Yes, I should,” said Mr Temple, “so let’s go at once. There is nothing to be done here.”
Josh led the way down the cliff—rather a dangerous road, but one which seemed easy enough to him, while Arthur shuddered and stopped two or three times on the way down, as if the descent made him giddy. He was always well enough, though, to resent any offer of assistance, even into the boat when it was hauled close up to the rock. Josh would have lifted him in; Will was ready to lay a back for him and porter him in like a sack; but the sensitive London boy looked upon these offers of aid as insulting; and the consequence was that he got on board with one of his shoes full of water, and a very small piece of skin taken off his shin.
“Shall we row you on to Blee Vor,” said Josh.
Mr Temple nodded in a short business-like way, and taking out his glass, he began to examine the rock as they went along.
All of a sudden, though, he turned to Dick.
“Go and take that oar,” he said sharply; and then to Will—“Come here, my lad.”
Will coloured a little as he gave up his oar to Dick, who began rowing with a great deal of vigour and a great deal of splash, but with little effect upon the progress of the boat.