The man shook as if with an ague.
"You mean the tarantula and the——"
"Don't mention the name, sir, don't! It's uncanny, sir! After that, sir, I couldn't return. You don't blame——"
"You're no use at all, Bo's'n. You might better have gone with the pirates. Where are they, by the way?"
"Gone," said the Bo's'n, with a return of his confident tone. "Gone like the morning dew."
I looked at him in amazement as he stretched his arm toward the latticed opening and waved it toward the sea.
I remembered hearing the Skipper speak of the Bo's'n as "that dam poetry cuss!" What a broken reed he was! The Skipper came slowly into the cave now, upholding and almost carrying the young English lad, and we turned our attention to him.
Lacelle came also from the back just then, and I asked her how Cynthia was. She answered what sounded like "No compre," which the Bo's'n translated as meaning "No comprehendy," and I suppose he was right. I never was much of a hand at foreign languages.
The Skipper went into his niece's room. He came back, looking very mournful. He shook his head sadly.
"She don't move," said he. "She lays there just so."