“Ay, ay, sir.”
“You’re a liar, Barney Blane.”
“If he’s dead, pitch him overboard.”
“But he arn’t dead, captain,” growled Bob Hampton. “There’s stuff enough in him to make a full-sized sailor yet, and he’s far too good to be chucked over to the sharkses.”
“But Barney Blane said he was dead.”
“Don’t you take no notice o’ what Barney Blane says, skipper,” cried Dumlow. “He dunno chalk from cheese best o’ times, and I know he can’t tell a dead man from mutton.”
“Hear, hear, mate!” cried Bob Hampton. “Haw, haw, haw; we’ll chuck the boy overboard if you like, capt’n; but there’s a kick in one of his hind legs, an’ I see him wink and waggle one ear.”
“Let him lie there a bit till I come round,” cried Jarette. “You go on and clear that cabin.”
“Ay, ay,” cried the three men who were near. “Come on, lads. Here, Barney, go and get that there pannikin o’ water from the breaker, and pour some in the boy’s mouth. What yer go and say he were dead for?”
“Well, mate, I thought as he were. He had enough to ha’ killed a man, let alone a boy.”