“Yes; and I’ll get you another too some day.”
“I knew you wouldn’t leave me in the lurch, Esau,” I whispered; and then I started, for the master brought down his hand with a heavy slap on his knee.
“That was a good ’un,” he cried. “There’s too many o’ them sort in ’Frisco, and it gives the place a bad name. I don’t wish that loafer any harm, but I hope you’ve killed him.”
“I hope not,” I said, fervently.
“Best thing as could happen to him, my lad,” said the man. “You see he’s a regular bad ’un now, and he’d go on getting worse and worse, so the kindest thing your mate could do was to finish him off. But he arn’t done it. Them sort’s as hard as lobsters. Take a deal o’ licking to get through the rind.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Gunson just then.
“What’s matter?”
“She is leaving us behind,” said Gunson, as he looked sadly out to sea.
“Now she arn’t,” said the master; “and I arn’t going to let her. Her skipper and me’s had many a argyment together ’bout his craft, and he’s precious fond o’ jeering and fleering at me about my bit of a cutter, and thinks he can sail twiced as fast. I’m going tew show him he can’t.”
“Do you think you can overtake him then?” I cried eagerly.