“Well, I know that, mate,” growled the man. “But I say, can’t you reach up to my hands?”
“Yah! No!” growled Joe. “I’ve only got two. Can’t you reach down a little further and get hold of my ears, or something?”
“My arms aren’t spy-glasses, and they won’t reach within a foot of you. Can any of you swarm out above us here?”
“No—no—no!” came in voice after voice, from points that were evidently fairly distant.
“Oh!” groaned the sailor addressed as Harry. “Fust time in my blessed life I ever wished I was a ’Merican monkey.”
“What for, mate?” panted Joe.
“So as to make fast round this ’ere branch with my tail.”
“Joe! Joe!” came in a low hoarse tone. “Where am I!”
“Well, you are here, my lad; but don’t let go with your teeth. Take another good fast hold, but more outside like. Keep to the wool of the jumper—if you can.”
“Hah! I recollect now. We are in the water, and I have got hold of you.”