“I don’t know what to say, Jem. If they treated us well on board, I should be disposed to say let’s put up with our life till we get back home.”
“But then they don’t treat us well, Mas’ Don. I don’t grumble to you, but it’s a reg’lar dog’s life I lead; bully and cuss and swear at you, and then not even well fed.”
“But we are to be paid for it, Jem,” said Don, bitterly.
“Paid, Mas’ Don!” replied Jem, contemptuously. “What paying will make up for what we go through?”
“And I suppose we should have prize-money if we fought and took a French ship.”
“But then we’re sent right out here, Mas’ Don, where there’s no French ships to fight; and if there were, the prize-money is shared among them as aren’t killed.”
“Of course.”
“Well, how do we know as we shouldn’t be killed? No, Mas’ Don, they don’t behave well to us, and I want to get home again, and so do you.”
“Yes, Jem.”
“P’r’aps it’s cowardly, and they’ll call it desertion.”