"What lady? My niece?"
The Minion nodded.
"Who brought her? You?"
The Minion nodded again.
"You fool!" roared the Skipper. "Get out of my sight! Do you know you've driven her raring, staring, stark mad?"
The Minion nodded again, as if such happenings were of daily occurrence. I smiled placidly. I suppose the contented smile which settled over my features seemed somewhat conceited to the Skipper.
"Oh, you needn't grin, so mighty pleased and all," said the Skipper to me. "My niece never could bear to look at suffering. It wasn't you she was worrying about. It would be just the same about any one." I looked crestfallen probably, but I managed to gasp out a few words.
"How did you find me?" I said.
"Well, good Lord! don't wonder you ask. This young devil wouldn't have troubled himself to tell. My niece couldn't tell. She was stark, staring, raving mad! Crazy! Is now, for that matter! The Bo's'n has run away, the Lord knows where! He came tearin' into the cave, long before those devils left, a-shoutin', 'The serpent! the serpent!' Probably saw one. Queer man to stay in the woods." I thought that the solution of the Bo's'n's action lay in the fact that, like a historical gentleman named Hobson, the Bo's'n, as well as ourselves, had no choice.
The Minion had stolen near again, and was busy with the cage, and soon they rolled the young English lad out of his tomb and on to the dusty rock floor.