“Why, you miserable, wicked young rascal, how dare you tell me such a thing as that?” cried my uncle.
The boy gave a loud sniff.
“That’s just what Bill Cross said, sir: and that he’d knock my blessed young head off if I dared to do such a thing.”
“Did you say that?” asked my uncle.
“Yes, sir, I did, sir,” said the man gruffly; “and a very stupid thing too.”
“How stupid?” said my uncle.
“If he drowned himself and went to the bottom, how was I ever to get the chance to hit him, sir?”
“Humph! I see,” said my uncle; “but you meant right. And what then?” he continued, turning back to the boy.
“Bill Cross said, sir, that if I’d got the spirit of a cockroach I wouldn’t do that. ‘Cut and run,’ he says.”
“Quite right,” said my uncle. “I mean, get to another ship.”