"Come, Smith, come! You seem very loath to part with your prisoner."
The gun sounded again, then several in quick succession.
"Something beside a signal, sir," said the Smith. "It's a fight, a sea fight."
"Take to your heels, all of you!" roared Captain Jonas. "They haven't enough men on board to work ship."
"Take me up! take me up!" squeaked the Admiral. "All go ahead. I'll see ye all out."
The Smith loitered, pretending to gather up the silver flagons and cups that lay strewn about.
"No time for that, Pennock, no time for that! Will you go on?"
There was menace in the tone.
It seemed to me as if I could not lose this my only friend—a friend made in the last ten minutes, it is true, but one who could save me when there was no one else to aid. I looked up at him imploringly; he sighed and gave me a glance which was at the same time encouraging and hopeless, a paradox which I explained to myself amid the confusion of my thoughts as if he said: "You see that I must go. But if I can, I will return and save you."
"Pick me up! pick me up!" squeaked the Admiral of the Red.