“Bones broken? Nay. I’ve got none of your poor brittle chaney-ladle kind o’ bones; but my head’s cut and the bark’s all off my right leg in the front. Left leg arn’t got no bark at all, and I’m reg’larly shaken in all my seams, and stove in on my starboard quarter, sir. So if you’ll have me got into dock or beached and then overhaul me a bit, I’d take it kindly.”
“Of course, of course, Strake; anything I can do.”
“Ahoy!” cried the old man, raising a hand as he sat in the sunshine upon the rock, but lowering it directly. “Oh, dear; I wanted to give them a hearty cheer yonder, but, phew! it’s bellows to mend somewhere. Yes, I’m stove in. Old ship’s been on the rocks; all in the dry though.”
A cheer came back, though, as Roylance and his men caught sight of the two who had been rescued, while they towed the boat slowly along.
“How are we to get you back to the huts, Strake?” said Syd, anxiously.
“Oh, never mind me just at present, my lad,” said the boatswain; “what I want to see is that there boat got alongside o’ our harbour—on’y ’tarn’t a harbour—and made fast with all the rope you can find. Maybe she’s got a cable aboard. I should break my heart if she weer to break adrift now.”
“Mr Roylance has her in charge, Strake, and I’ll see to you. Where are you in pain?”
“Ask me where I arn’t in pain, Mr Belton, sir. I got it this time.”
“I’m sorry for you, Strake.”
“Thank ye, sir; but I’m sorry for you. There’s a big job to patch me up and caulk me, I can tell you. It’s horspittle this time, I’m feared.”