“De fel-ler!”
As for Neb, he advanced with his prize, which he offered to Lucy with one of his best bows, but in a way to show he was not conscious of having performed any unusual exploit. Lucy handed the box to Chloe, without averting her eyes from Drewett, in whose situation she manifested a good deal more concern than I liked, or fancied he deserved.
“Thank you, Mr. Drewett,” she said, affecting to think the box had been recovered altogether by his address; “it is now safe, and there is no longer any necessity for your coming here. Let Mr. Wallingford do what he says”—I had mentioned in a low voice, the practicability of my own scheme—“and return to your own sloop.”
But, two things now interposed to the execution of this very simple expedient. The first was Drewett's pride, blended with a little obstinacy, and the other was the “Albonny” skipper's pride, blended with a good deal of obstinacy. The first did not like to retreat, after Neb had so clearly demonstrated it was no great matter to walk on the boom; and the latter, soured by the manner in which we had outsailed him, and fancying Andrew had deserted to get on board a faster vessel, resented the whole by sheering away from us to the distance of a hundred yards. I saw that there remained but a single expedient, and set about adopting it without further delay.
“Take good hold of the lift, Mr. Drewett, and steady yourself with both hands; ease away the peak halyards to tauten that lift a little more, forward. Now, one of you stand by to ease off the guy handsomely, and the rest come aft to the main-sheet. Look out for yourself, Mr. Drewett; we are about to haul in the boom, when it will be a small matter to get you in, upon the taffrail. Stand by to luff handsomely, so as to keep the boom as steady as possible.”
But Drewett clamorously protested against our doing anything of the sort. He was getting used to his situation, and intended to come in Neb-fashion, in a minute more. All he asked was not to be hurried.
“No—no—no—touch nothing I entreat of you, Captain Wallingford”—he said, earnestly. “If that black can do it, surely I ought to do it, too.”
“But the black has claws, and you have none, sir; then he is a sailor, and used to such things, and you are none, sir. Moreover, he was barefooted, while you have got on stiff, and I dare say slippery boots.”
“Yes, the boots are an encumbrance. If I could only throw them off, I should do well enough. As it is, however, I hope to have the honour of shaking you by the hand, Miss Hardinge, without the disgrace of being helped.”
Mr. Hardinge here expostulated, but all in vain; for I saw plainly enough Drewett was highly excited, and that he was preparing for a start. These signs were now so apparent that all of us united our voices in remonstrances; and Lucy said imploringly to me—“Do not let him move, Miles—I have heard him say he cannot swim.”