“What, do you think,” he cried, “that I am speaking no sense?”
“Well,” said the lieutenant, smiling, “I think you are excited and ill.”
“No, no,” cried Ali. “Give me clothes; I will fight for you. There is danger!”
“Nonsense!” said the lieutenant. “There, lie down; and Roberts, your friend, you know, shall come and sit with you.”
“Oh, listen to me!” cried Ali piteously. “I am not as you think. I swam off to warn you. Hamet has got half your men away by treachery. I am sure they are going to attack you. Quick! get ready; there is great, great danger! Give me clothes, and I’ll fight for you!”
As he spoke excitedly, Bob Roberts entered the cabin, and stood listening.
“Come and speak to him, Roberts,” said the lieutenant quietly. “Poor fellow! he is overdone, and it has flown to his head.”
“Ah! You here?” cried Ali joyfully. “He will not believe me, Bob. Listen; there is going to be an attack made upon you—at the island, and here. They have got your men and officers away to lead them into a trap. I escaped to tell you.”
“Oh! come, old chap, don’t talk like that,” cried Bob, taking his hand. “Don’t talk such wild nonsense and bosh. Lie down and have a good sleep. I say, Mr Johnson, I wish old Bolter was here.”
“You do not believe me!” cried Ali passionately. “What am I, that you treat me so? Is it that I always lie?”