The House by the Church-Yard

by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

While Cluffe was shouting these words, and scrambling forward, Puddock was crying—

'Curth it, Cluffe, quick—oh! hang it, I can't thtand it—bleth my thoul!

And Puddock let go, and the boat and its precious freightage, with a horrid whisk and a sweep, commenced its seaward career in the dark.

'Take the oars, Sir, hang you!' cried Cluffe.

'There are no oarth,' replied Puddock, solemnly.

'Or the helm.'

'There'th no helm.'

'And what the devil, Sir?' and a splash of cold water soused the silken calves of Cluffe at this moment.

'Heugh! heugh!—and what the devil will you do, Sir? you don't want to drown me, I suppose?' roared Cluffe, holding hard by the gunwale.

'You can thwim, Cluffe; jump in, and don't mind me,' said little Puddock, sublimely.