“No, thankye, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom sulkily. “I’ve had enough shark for one day. My hand’s ’bout cut in two, and my arm’s ’bout pulled outer the socket, and one of my legs was twissen under me when I come down, I’ve had enough shark to last me half a lifetime.”
Chapter Eight.
The new Land.
As the shuddering feeling of what Tom had escaped passed off, we both thought it would be better to say nothing about it. We knew that he had acted foolishly; and I felt that I ought to have known better, and then soon enough, boy like, we forgot it all.
For there was a bright future spread before us, and I began to wonder how it was that with such lovely places on the face of the earth, people could be content to live in old England. There, seen through the bright transparent atmosphere, were convent, cathedral, castle, and tower, grouped at the foot of a mountain, glistening with endless tints as it towered up nine thousand feet, wall and battlement running up the spurs of the great eminence.
The scene was lovely, and I was in raptures then with all that lay before me, and again I asked myself how people could be content in chilly Europe; but I soon understood all that.
Tom was walking by my side, and turning to him—
“What do you think of it, Tom?” I said.