Then Sam said, groping about in the darkness for Benny’s hands, and holding them firmly as he spoke:
“It may be, lad, that I made all that trouble for nothing. It is possible the cargo was within a few inches of my feet as I hung on the rope; but that I couldn’t know, and it was the fear of shattering a bone which caused me to hold on and yell for help. A surfman with a broken leg might lose a whole season’s work, seein’ ’s the damage wouldn’t have been done in line of duty.”
“It’s lucky I heard you. If all hands hadn’t left the steamer, perhaps I shouldn’t have tried to find out where you had gone.”
“Do you know, lad, that you did a brave thing in takin’ the chances of my pullin’ you into the hold with me?”
“I do hope you won’t make such talk, Mr. Hardy,” Benny cried pleadingly. “I ain’t brave, for I was terribly frightened when that queer noise came out of the hold.”
“I noticed that you kept on trying to find out what it was.”
“Yes, sir, because I’d been ashamed to have it said I was scared at a noise.”
“Well, hark you, Benny, I won’t say anything more about your being a little hero, although I may think so just the same, and in return you shall keep quiet about this bit of trouble.”
“Don’t you want any one to know of it, sir?”
“Indeed, I don’t, No. 8. It wouldn’t sound very well if you should tell that an old hand like Sam Hardy let himself into the hold of a wreck by a rope which he couldn’t come back on. The boys never’d stop making fun of me, an’ more especially if it turns out that I was hangin’ all that time within two or three feet of the cargo. Now, is it a bargain that both of us are to keep this ’ere business a profound secret?”