“Oh, indeed,” said the captain dryly; and he took out a despatch and began to read.
Dick, who was coxswain of the gig, screwed up his mahogany visage, and Bob pretended to look terribly alarmed, and so the boat was rowed over the sparkling waters to the bamboo landing-stage, when the captain got out, and Bob was left in charge of the boat.
Bob jumped up as soon as the captain had entered the residency, and began to fidget about.
“I wish I knew how long the skipper would be, Dick,” he said. “I want to go ashore. No, I don’t,” he said, correcting himself. “I got in a row once for that. But look here, Dick, suppose you go and find Mr Long.”
“All right, sir,” said Dick, with alacrity. “I’ll go.”
“Oh no, you don’t,” cried Bob, recollecting himself again; “that fly won’t take the same cock salmon twice, Master Dick.”
“I don’t understand you, sir,” growled Dick, rubbing his ear.
“Oh no, I suppose not,” said Bob. “You didn’t go ashore for me once with a message, and then get up to the canteen and forgot to come back again, did you?”
“Lor’, now you mention it, sir, so I did,” said Dick. “It was that day as I met Sergeant Lund, and he says, ‘Why, Dick, old man,’ he says, ‘you look as dry and thirsty,’ he says, ‘as a fish. Come and have some lime juice and water,’ and I did, and talking together about the ‘Startler’ and her guns, and earth-works, made me quite forget how the time went by. But lor’, Mr Roberts, sir, what a memory you have to be sure.”
“Yes,” said Bob, sticking his cap on one side, and cocking his eye knowingly at the old salt; “a fellow just needs to have a good memory. I say, Dick, that lime juice and water was precious strong that day, wasn’t it?”