“Jem, we must escape.”
“Escape? I on’y wish we could. Oh, my head: how it do ache.”
“They will take us off to the tender, and then away in some ship, and they will not know at home where we are gone Jem, get up.”
“What’s the good, sir? My head feels like feet, and if I tried to stand up I should go down flop!”
“Let me help you, Jem. Here, give me your hand. How dark it is? Where’s your hand?”
“Gently, my lad; that’s my hye. Arn’t much use here in the dark, but may want ’em by-and-by. That’s better. Thank ye, sir. Here, hold tight.”
“Can’t you stand, Jem?”
“Stand, sir? Yes: but what’s the matter? It’s like being in a round-about at the fair.”
“You’ll be better soon.”
“Better, sir? Well, I can’t be worse. Oh, my head, my head! I wish I’d got him as did it headed up in one of our barrels, I’d give him such a roll up and down the ware’us floor as ’ud make him as giddy as me.”