“What is it?” cried Mark, excitedly. “Why are they getting the anchor up?”
“Don’t know. Nobody knows but the skipper, but we’re off somewhere, thank goodness, and you’re to come on deck to-day, and old Russell too.”
“That is good news.”
“Yes, I shall have you all right now, in no time, getting the breeze away from this dismal shore. Here, I’ve told your lady’s-maid—
“Hoozoar we’re off to sea—he—he,
Hoozoar we’re off to sea.”
Mark thrust his fingers into his ears till the last word was sung, and then withdrew them.
“Here, what do you mean about the lady’s-maid?”
“I’ve told Tom Fillot to come. He’s to attend to you down here. I’ve got some one else for you on deck.”
“Tell him to make haste, then.”
“Come in,” cried Bob; and Tom Fillot came in, pulled his forelock, and kicked out one leg behind, as he stood grinning, but looking rather white and pulled down.