“Well, I won’t tell a lie,” panted the man, “it were, but I arn’t been able hardly to breathe.”
“It was all a mistake, my lad,” said Mr Frewen; “but we’ve re-taken the ship.”
“All right, sir,” cried Barney; “but it isn’t all right. It arn’t fair. I was to help re-take the Burgh Castle, and I was going to, on’y you all set upon me as you did, and I’m knocked about orfle.”
“Well, messmate, it is disappynting, I’ll allow,” growled Bob Hampton; “but there arn’t much the matter with you, Barney, and out forrard there was games, I can tell you. Old Frenchy was chucking bullets about anyhow, and ’stead o’ being here in this here cabin with me untying these here knots, you might ha’ been yonder with a hole or two through your carcadge.”
“Ay, that’s right enough, matey,” growled Blane; “but I wanted to help, and have it out with Frenchy. He kicked me below when the mootny fust began, and I can’t forget it. I’m English, I am, and I arn’t going to sit down and be kicked by a Frenchman, ’tarn’t likely.”
“No, matey, it arn’t. But lookye here. He’s forrard and down in the forksle, and as soon as you get the feeling back in your legs—”
“Ay, you may say that, mate. They’re like a mask o’ cold lead.”
“Then I’ll rub them for you, and then you can go and strike him back.”
“What! now he’s down. Nice sort of cold meat work that’d be; I wanted to go at him when he was up.”
“There, Blane,” said Mr Frewen, “you must forgive us and shake hands. It was all a mistake, and part of the re-taking of the ship.”