“The wind blaws, sir, and I dinna thenk I can haud on.”
“What? Why, you contemptible, lubberly young rascal, what do you mean? You come to sea, and afraid to go aloft!”
“Na, I winna say I’m afraid to gang aloft, sir; but my heid’s a’ of a wark when I get up, and I might fa’ and hurt somebody.”
Captain, mate, the doctor, and Steve burst into a roar of laughter at this; and feeling that he must have said something unusually clever the boy looked smiling round, letting his eyes rest at last upon Steve.
“Here, this won’t do!” cried Mr Lowe. “Now, boy, no nonsense; up with you!”
“Na,” said the boy sturdily, and he shook his shock head. “My mither said I wasna to rin into danger, and I didna come to sea to fa’ overboard, or come doon upon the deck wi’ a roon.”
“Now, boy, come along!” cried the sailor, who was high up above the top.
“Do you hear, sir! Up with you, or you’ll get the rope’s end!” cried the mate angrily.
“Don’t send him,” said the captain in an undertone. “The young cur may fall.”
“I’ll take them!” cried Steve; and stepping forward, he leaped up into the shrouds and held down his hand for the bundle.