“Well, all in good time,” cried Rodd. “They are fitting the copper sheathing on again, and to-morrow they will begin careening the brig over so as to get at the other side.”
“Ha! Yes,” said the French lad, with a sigh of satisfaction. “Well, you take your boat to-morrow, and plenty of men and ammunition, and go on a good long excursion.”
“Shan’t,” said Rodd gruffly.
“But why not?”
“Aren’t going without you.”
“What nonsense! I’m busy. You are free.”
“I am not. If we went away leaving you alone with a brig that won’t swim, who knows what would happen? The crocs would send the news all up and down the river that we were gone away, and come on at you with a rush.”
“That’s absurd! You talk like a boy.”
“Well, I am one. Yes, that is nonsense. But suppose a whole tribe of niggers came down out of the forest to attack you.”
“They couldn’t. You know yourself that the forest is impassable except to wild beasts.”