“Right, we’re safe.”
Mr Dewar looked at Captain Wayland for a few moments.
“You believe in that youngster, sir?” he asked.
“I do. He’s faithful, bold, or rather brave—”
“Yes, sir, he’s as plucky as a bantam. He thrashed big Crawford the first day he came on board. Crawford has been good-natured ever since. He showed fine fighting form when we brushed against those Arabs above ’Mbasa, and he jumped overboard, you know, and saved Raggy’s life off the Quillimane river.”
“Raggy die some day for Massa Milvaine,” put in the nigger-boy.
“Hush, Raggy, when your betters are talking.”
“Raggy die all same, though,” the boy persisted.
“The young scamp will have the last word. Yes, Mr Dewar, young Milvaine ought to have a medal for that; but, poor fellow, he won’t, though I’m told there were sharks about by the dozen.”
“I saw it all,” said young Dewar. “It was my cap that fell off, just before we crossed the bar. Raggy made a plunge for it, and over he went; Milvaine threw off his coat, and over he went. The coolness of the beggar, too, amused me.”