“Ah, a queer lot. Better come back to civilisation, my man,” said the lieutenant.
“At Norfolk Island, sir?”
“Humph!” muttered the lieutenant; and facing his men round, he marched them back to the boats, after which they spent about four hours making soundings, and then returned to the ship.
Almost before the sailors were out of hearing, there was a scuffle and agitation in the group, and Jem struggled from among the Maoris, his face hot and nearly purple, Don’s not being very much better.
“I won’t stand it. Nearly smothered. I won’t have it,” cried Jem furiously.
“Don’t be so foolish, Jem. It was to save us,” said Don, trying to pacify him.
“Save us! Well they might ha’ saved us gently. Look at me. I’m nearly flat.”
“Nonsense! I found it unpleasant; but they hid us, and we’re all right.”
“But I arn’t all right, Mas’ Don; I feel like a pancake,” cried Jem, rubbing and patting himself as if he were so much paste or clay which he wanted to get back into shape.
“Don’t be so stupid, Jem!”