“Ay,” said Bob, “and the sooner they do it the better. I’m getting wild for want o’ somethin’ to stow in my hold. They’ve got to bring something too, or I’ll soon let ’em know.”
“Know what, Bob?” I said anxiously, for the man’s voice sounded fierce and strange.
“Why, sir, they threatened us as to what they’d do; fired it right into my ear, Jarette did. He says to me he says, ‘If yer don’t soon let us out, I’ll set fire to the ship.’”
“Yes, I know he did,” I said.
“That’s ’robborative evidence, messmates, when yer orficer says you’re right. Well, then, what I says to him is this, I’ve got a box o’ matches in my pocket, and if they don’t soon let us out, or put us somewhere so as we can breathe, I’ll set the blessed old Burgh Castle alight myself and burn our way out.”
“Nonsense,” I cried; “you’re mad.”
“And ’nuff to make me, sir. That there stuff we took’s set up a reg’lar fierce annymile or something in my inside, as goes on gnaw, gnaw, gnaw, till I shan’t be able to stand it much longer, and shall have to break out.”
“Well, you are a rum ’un, Bob,” said Barney. “Why, you’re not going to turn canniball, are yer, at your time o’ life?”
“What d’yer mean?”
“Talking about eating your messmates.”