“Right? to be sure I am,” growled Wat; “right as I was to-night in having a bit of a talk with pretty Janet, lad.”
“And that I forbid for the future,” said Gil, stopping with the water nearly up to his waist.
“Forbid away,” grumbled Wat, “but as long as my skipper goes amongst rocks Wat Kilby goes as well to watch over him the while.”
“Then that settles it, Wat,” said Gil; “I am going no more.”
“Ho, ho, ho!—ho, ho, ho!” chuckled the old sailor. “Sattles! What? have you and young mistress fallen out?”
“Hold your peace!” said Gil, sharply; “and learn to obey my orders.”
“Saints on earth, I’m like so much wax or Stockholm pitch in his hands, and he does with me as he likes. It’s a brave deal deeper here than I thought, skipper; wait till I have out my blade and feel my way a bit.”
He pulled out his sword, and began to sound with it in the darkness; but, save in the direction of the house and garden, the water seemed to grow deeper and deeper; and, after taking a step or two in different directions, the old fellow drew back and paused grumbling.
“It’s deeper than I thought,” he said; “the water goes down above my head everywhere. Let’s wait a bit.”
“What for?” said Gil, angrily. “Do you think the Pool will grow shallower? This comes of trusting another.”