CHAPTER XXIII
CONCLUSION
"Aye, it was the knee he give you, lad. 'Ow was an innercent babe like you to know about foul tricks o' fighting? But 'twas a close shave you 'ad, a blinkin' close shave, swiggle me stiff, it was! If it 'adn't been for the lass grabbin' up 'is gun and potting the blighter—well, it's a lucky lad you are, Martin, with a double treasure won, and but sore muscles to pay." The bosun shifted his quid and spat over the rail into the racing sea. "Aye, the lass," he mumbled. "A lucky lad, that's wot."
"I know I am," answered Martin, humbly. "Oh, so lucky. If only poor Billy had had some of my luck."
"'E was feyed, Martin," declared the bosun. "I knew from the moment you told me wot Sails as 'ow I'd never clasp Little Billy's 'and again, and 'im alive and cheery. Poor Billy! 'E was my mate, my chum, and I'd give my share o' the swag ten times over just to 'ear 'im cuss me out again."
They took a turn or two on the deck in sorrowful silence, Martin limping somewhat painfully, and the big man accommodating his stride to the other's progress. The brig was running before the wind, over a sun-sparkled, white capped sea; every rag she owned was spread, and the breeze snored aloft like an organ. The bosun paused at the poop break, snorted into his large red handkerchief, and pretended to inspect the drawing of the mainsail. Then, his emotion conquered, he resumed the stroll.
"We left foul weather be'ind us in that black Devil's 'ole," he commented. "Now it's fair winds and bright skies. Ow, well, swiggle me stiff, wot's done is done and can't be undone, as Sails would 'ave said. 'Tis fine weather for you, eh, lad—and you standin' the moonlight watches with the lass by your side? Another day o' this, and we'll be landin' those five yellow imps we got in the hold on their own bloomin' coast, and then it's 'urrah for 'ome and the splicin' party, eh, lad?"
Martin smiled happily.
"I don't mind landin' the four 'foremast 'ands, and lettin' them off scott free except for their cuts and bumps," grumbled the bosun. "They didn't 'ave no 'and in the plannin' of it. But to land that feller, Ichi—swiggle me stiff, if I 'ad my way, I land that blighter in the air, below the tops'l yardarm, with a bloomin' noose around 'is neck! Why, 'e was the ruddy bird wot started the business!"