“Oh, Tom,” he cried, “I can’t bear it. I never heard anything of this kind before.”
“And don’t want to hear it again, sir, o’ course. Well, it arn’t nice. I didn’t like it till I got used to it, and then I didn’t seem to mind.”
“How brutal!” said Aleck, angrily. “Hark at that!”
“I hear, sir. That’s some o’ the fishermen’s wives letting go.”
“Yes; and you speak in that cool way. Aren’t you sorry for them?”
“Nay, sir; not me. I’m sorry for the poor sailor boys.”
“What!” cried Aleck, angrily. “Tom, I didn’t think you could be so brutal.”
“You don’t understand, sir. That’s the women shouting and screaming as they give it to the press-gang. It’s the sailors gets hits and scratches and called all sorts o’ names, and they’re ’bliged to take it all. But, my word, there’s getting to be a shindy to-night and no mistake. Let’s try again to get the boat off!”
They tried; but she was immovable, save that they could rock her from side to side.
“We’ll do it in another ten minutes, Master Aleck, and then we’d better row till we’re outside the harbour. Hark at ’em now! That’s not the women now; that’s the men. I say, I b’lieve there’s a good dozen o’ the smuggling lot about the town, Master Aleck, but I hadn’t seen one. Did you catch sight o’ any on ’em?”