“Well, sir, to be downright honest, p’raps it was.”
“Then don’t please. I’m sick and faint, and ready to die.”
“Nay, not you, sir. Too much pluck in you.”
“Pluck!” cried Mark, bitterly. “I’m in despair.”
“Nay, not you, sir. You’re in command here, and as an officer you’ve got to let yourself drift off nowhere, and think about taking care of us. That’s your duty, sir, and you know it. What’s to become o’ us if you cut yourself adrift? That won’t do at all. There, sir, let’s wait for day. We may have quite a breeze come with the sun, and soon after catch sight of the Naughtylass bowling down to us. For, trust me, they’ll see us fast enough. Young Mr Bob Howlett’ll be up at the masthead spying out with his glass, see if he ain’t. Better have a sleep, sir.”
“No, man, no; I’m too ill and miserable to sleep.”
“Then if you won’t mind, sir, and’ll give me leave, I will have a snooze. For I can’t do you no good, and it will rest me, so as I shall be able to do something in the morning.”
“Sleep if you can,” said Mark, bitterly.
“Nay, sir, I can’t sleep if you take it and speak like that. Dessay I shall be just as well awake.”
“No, no, lie down and rest a bit,” cried Mark.