“Smugglers, or fishermen, or anyone else. All’s fish that comes into a press-gang’s net—’cept us, Master Aleck. They wouldn’t take a young gent like you, and I should be no good to ’em now, sir,” continued the poor fellow, with a ring of sadness in his voice, which gave place to a chuckle as he added, “unless they kep’ me aboard the man-o’-war to poke my pins down the scupper holes to keep ’em from being choked. These here two bits o’ thin board I’ll nail in close together, and then we’ll let the water come up all round and harden the pitch. Just you rake them ashes together, Master Aleck, so as not to let the fire go quite out. I shan’t be above half an hour now, and then I shall want a light for my pipe, and by the time I’ve done that you’ll be back again.”
“Back again? I’m not going away.”
“Oh, yes, you are, Master Aleck; you’re going up to the little shop yonder to get a noo crusty loaf and a quarter of a pound o’ cheese.”
“Oh, I can’t eat now, Tom,” said the lad, impatiently.
“Can’t yer, sir?” said Tom, with a grin. “Well, I can—like fun—and if you’ll buy what I says I’ll teach you how.”
“Oh, of course, Tom. How thoughtless of me! I’ve been so anxious; but, of course, you must be very hungry! I’ll go and get some bread and cheese. And you’d like a mug of beer, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, Master Aleck, I wouldn’t say no to a drop if it was here.”
“I’ll go at once, Tom, without you want me to hold the boards while you nail them.”
“All right, sir. Nay, nay, don’t make a blaze. Just rake the ashes together; any little ember will do to light my pipe. I say, Master Aleck, we haven’t had a single boy nigh us.”
“No, not one. How strange!”