“Well-aimed, sir? Oh, that was nothing tickler. An easy shot that, sir. No fear o’ my breaking no legs. I can tell exactly how much powder to fire with. I give it ’em just strong enough to hurt; that’s all.”
Just then the officer came back, spoke to the young middy, and went off again with the six men who had been unsuccessful in their chase of the red-capped boy, while Aleck and his companion exchanged glances.
“There, Tom, take away the boat,” said Aleck; “I must go and get my uncle’s paper.”
“Your uncle’s paper, sir?”
“Yes, I’ve run over to get some for him.”
“Why, you got some on’y t’other week, sir. Did he have an axdent and burn it?”
“No,” said Aleck, laughing. “It’s all used up for writing.”
“Wond’ful—wond’ful!” muttered the man. “Here’s me can’t write a word, and him allus going at it. Well, I suppose he was born that way. I’ll take care o’ your boat all the same, sir.”
“What do you mean with your all the same?” asked Aleck, looking puzzled at the man’s words.
“All the same, sir, though I can’t write a word.”