“Ah!” said one of the men, “if that had been steel ’stead o’ wood you’d ha’ gone right through him.”
“Yes,” growled the boatswain, “’stead o’ having a broken oar. Well, if the skipper says I must pay for it, why I must.”
“Yah! nonsense!” muttered another. “What, arter saving his boy’s life?”
All this brought back to Syd’s memory matters which he had seen dimly in the exciting moments during which he was saved from a horrible death; and that which he had not seen, imagination and the men’s words supplied. But he could recall something of a sturdy man standing up in the boat and making a thrust at the shark, and while he was realising that this man was Barney, one of the sailors said—
“And if I hadn’t ketched hold o’ you, Mr Bo’sun, by the waistband o’ your breeches, you’d ha’ gone overboard, and Jack shark would have had you.”
“Ay, my lad, he would,” growled Barney; “but I don’t believe he’d a liked me, for I must be precious tough by now.”
“Say, lads,” said another voice, “what’s the reward for saving a bo’sun’s life?”
“Nothing,” said Barney. “’Sides, you’ve on’y stopped somebody’s promotion. Steady there!”
At that moment, as Syd lay there with a misty feeling of confusion troubling him, it seemed from the rocking of the boat that the lieutenant had leaped on board, and the next moment he was kneeling down, and his hands were busy about Syd.
“Belton, my dear lad,” he said, excitedly, “where are you hurt?”