“Only that she may as weel lee doon and ket it ower, sir. She’ll neffer see Scotia acain.”
“Hamish, I should be ashamed to say that if I were a big, strong fellow like you. What are you thinking about?”
“She thinks it wass a shame to pring us all oop here to dee.”
There was a low murmur of acquiescence here among the men, and Steve felt a shiver run through him, as if the men’s dread and despondency were contagious. But he brightened up the next minute, and said lightly:
“This doesn’t sound very brave;” and he pushed by the men and descended to the forecastle, where Andrew lay staring at the dim light swinging from one of the beams.
“Hullo, Andra!” he cried cheerily, though he knew the jubilant sound of his voice was forced; “lying down? How are the pipes?”
“The pipes are froze hard, Meester Stevey, an’ she’ll hae them put wi’ her in the hole in the snow.”
“What, to thaw them?” cried Steve. “Nonsense! you’re not so bad as that. Where’s Watty?”
“Oh!” came from right forward out of the darkness.
“What a groan!” cried Steve boisterously. “Here, come out, you lazy old rascal; we’re just going on a bit of a trip. Where are you? Oh, I say, you do like playing dormouse.”