“Yes, on yer back,” growled Tom. “Are yer comfy? I put in a nice noo bit o’ pine board ’sevening for yer to lie on.”
“No; of course I’m not comf’table with you sitting on me.”
“Course you arn’t. Think I am with that great brass buckle o’ yourn sticking in the bottom o’ my chest?”
“Is Master Aleck there?” said the smuggler, after a short pause.
“Yes, I’m here, Eben, steering.”
“Ah, I can see you now, sir.”
“No, yer can’t,” growled Tom, “so none o’ your lies. Just because you want to be civil to the young master.”
“I tell you I can see him quite plain. Think I’ve got eyes like a mole?”
“Look out then, and tell us where we are.”
“How can I look out with my head down here?”