"I ain't no pup nor no nigger-man," said Extry. "You ain't going to order me."
Marah seemed to shrink into himself and to begin to sparkle all over—I can't describe it: that is the effect he produced—he seemed to settle down like a cat going to spring. Extry's hand travelled round for his sheath-knife, and yet it moved indecisively, as though half afraid. And then, just as I felt that Extry would die from being looked at in that way, he hung his head, turned to the door, and walked out sheepishly according to order. He was beaten.
"No listening now," said Marah, as they filed out. "Keep on your own side of the fence."
"Shall we take Gatty with us?" said one of the men.
"Let him lie," said Marah; "he's hove down for a full due, Gatty is."
The men disappeared with their prisoner. Marah looked after them for a moment. "Now," he said, "come on over here to the table, Master Jim." He watched me with a strange grin upon his face; I knew that grin; it was the look his face always bore when he was worried. "Now we will come to business. Lie back against the hammocks and rest; I'm going to talk to you like a father."
I lay back upon the lashed-up hammocks and he began.
"I suppose you know what you've done? You've just about busted yourself. D'ye know that? You thought you'd rescue the pugs"—he meant coastguards. "Well, you haven't. You have gone and shoved your head down a wasp's nest, so you'll find. How did you get here, in the first place? What gave you your clue?"
"I saw the coastguards up above here yesterday," I answered, "and I thought I heard voices speaking from below the brow of the cliff, so then I searched about till I found a hole, and so I got down here."
"Ah," said Marah, "they will be round here looking for you, then. I'll take the liberty of hiding your tracks." He went in to the other room and spoke a few words to one of the other smugglers. "Well," he said, as he came back to me, "they'll not find you now, if they search from now till glory. They'll think you fell into the sea."