“Oh no,” said Mr Denning, “I should like Dale.”
“All right,” said the captain. “Don’t tumble overboard, Dale.”
“I’ll try not, sir,” I said, “but I can swim.”
“So much the better, my lad, but it takes a long time to lower a boat down, and a man overboard gets left a long way behind when a ship is in full sail.”
He walked away, and looking as eager as I did, Mr Denning began about a fishing-line, while his sister looked bright and happy to see her brother so much interested in the plans he had in view.
“I suppose there are plenty of fishing-lines on board,” he said. “Let’s get right back beyond the man at the wheel, and fish from there.”
“I’ll go and see about the lines,” I said; and I went forward to where the boatswain was looking after some men who were bending on a new sail.
“Lines? Fishin’-lines, my lad?—no, I don’t know of any.”
Directly after I came upon Walters. “I say, do you know anything about any fishing-lines?” I said.
“Of course I do,” he replied in a contemptuous tone; “who doesn’t?”