“There’s plenty of them,” growled the skipper, “but three boats together scares them a bit. Here, my lads, lay hold of this line and make fast, and we will give you a tow back to the schooner. We shan’t be long getting up to it with this tide. Why, hallo here! Not content with losing the oars and boat-hook, you’ve been and got the gig stove in! And the grapnel gone too! Here, you Joe Cross, what’s the meaning of all this?”
“I’ll tell you about that, captain, by and by,” said Rodd quickly. “What’s that? You want to come aboard, Morny? No, you had better not. It’s all muddy, and we shall have to begin baling. Pitch us in a couple of tins.”
“I’ll bring them,” cried the young Frenchman, rising in the boat.—“Yes, my father, I wish to go. Hook on, and let me get aboard,” he continued to the French coxswain.
Half-an-hour later, with the men taking it in turns to bale, and with the crocodiles seeming to have become more scarce, they ran up alongside of the two anchored vessels, cheering and being cheered from the moment they came into sight.
“Now, my lads,” cried the doctor, “every one of you take what I’ll mix up for you directly, and have a good bathe and rub down. I am not going to have you all down with fever if I can stave it off.”
Chapter Thirty Seven.
Talking like a Boy.
Perhaps it was nearly all weariness and the result of the excitement, but it may have been due to Uncle Paul’s potion; at any rate Rodd went off fast asleep, and when he awoke it was to find Morny sitting by his cot. “Hullo!” he cried. “You here!”