Here Tom Bodger was quite at home, and as active as the boat’s owner, stumping about inside, and then hopping off one of the thwarts on to the rocks, ready to take mast, yard, oars, and boat-hook up into their places, securing the boat’s painter to the big ring-bolt, and then taking one side while Aleck took the other and swinging her right up on to the rocks.
“There we are, then,” said the sailor, a few minutes later; “all ship-shape and snug. Shall I put them baits back in the coorge?”
“No, no, Tom,” said Aleck, dismally; “empty the bucket into the sea, and give them a chance for their lives.”
“Ay, that’s right, Master Aleck, for they begin to look as if they’d been too long in the bucket.”
This latter was emptied, and then the couple began to ascend the gap towards the opening into the sunk garden. Tom stopped after getting over the stones like the rock-hopper penguin.
“I’ll slip off now, Master Aleck, case the captain may be out in the garden,” whispered the sailor.
“Yes, you’d better go now, Tom. Do I look so very bad?”
“Tidy, sir, tidy; but don’t you mind that. Go right at him, and let him know as soon as you can that you beat. You’ll be all right then. Maybe he’ll let out at you at first, but all the time he’ll be beginning to feel that you leathered a big hulking chap as is the worst warmint in Rockabie, and you’ll come out all right. Day, Master Aleck!”
“Good day, Tom, and thank you. I’ll remind uncle about your shillings if he forgets.”
“He won’t forget, sir; the captain’s a gen’leman as never forgets nothing o’ that sort. Now then, sir, ram your little head down and lay yourself aboard him. Nothing like getting it over. Head first and out of your misery, same as when I learned you to swim.”