“Poor wretch!” he sighed. “I hope he is not dead.”
Just then one of the other men said, in the broad Devon burr:
“Zay, lads, bean’t they going to give uz zum’at to eat?”
“Brakfus-time,” said another. “Zay, Humpy, how is it with ye? Not thuzty, are you? Oughtn’t to be, after all that water.”
“I’m going to make zumun pay for all this,” came in the man’s familiar growl. “Why didn’t you get hold o’ me and pull me in? Zet o’ vools. Had your chance; and we might ha’ got away.”
“Why, it was all your fault,” said another. “We was waitin’ for you. What did you go and stop zo long under water for?”
“Did I?” said Humpy confusedly.
“Course you did. We was too good mates to go and leave you behind.”
There was a heavy bang at the door, as if from the butt of a musket, and the dogs leaped up and began to growl.
“Lie down, boys,” cried a thick voice, the words sounding as if spoken through a big keyhole. “An’ I say, you chaps, look heah; de massa say you make a row in dah I got to shoot.”