“Nor I—nor I,” cried two others.
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” cried another man. “I’m not going in the boat.”
Stan forgot his own nervousness, and burst out laughing, at which the whole party of Europeans broke out into a cheer.
“Thank ye, my lads,” said the manager in his grimmest way. “I did feel a bit puzzled.—Now then, Wing, tell the coolies and the rest that we’re in for a big fight. They’ll understand you better than they will me. Tell them that every one who doesn’t mean to stand by us can go off in the boat with you. Be fair with them, and tell them that there’ll be a lot of bad fighting.”
Wing nodded, and made a most animated speech to his yellow-looking, sun-tanned audience, who received it with a series of grunts.
“What do they say, my man?”
“Say wantee big fight. Shalpen knives and cuttee lot heads off.”
“You didn’t make them understand how dreadful it is going to be.”
“Yes; said velly dleadful—pilate kill plenty men.”
“Tell them again.”