“True for ye,” observed the sympathising Teddy, supposing that his master had finished his remark.
“It’s very sad,” repeated Jack, “to look abroad upon this lovely world, and know that thousands of our fellow-men are enjoying it in each other’s society, while we are self-exiled here.”
“An’ so it is,” said Teddy, “not to mintion our fellow-women an’ our fellow-childers to boot.”
“To be sure we have got each other’s society, O’Donel,” continued Jack, “and the society of the gulls—”
“An’ the fush,” interposed Teddy.
“And the fish,” assented Jack; “for all of which blessings we have cause to be thankful; but it’s my opinion that you and I are a couple of egregious asses for having forsaken our kind and come to vegetate here in the wilderness.”
“That’s just how it is, sur. We’re both on us big asses, an’ it’s a pint for investigation which on us is the biggest—you, who ought to have know’d better, or me, as niver kno’w’d anything, a’most, to spake of.”
Jack smiled. He was much too deeply depressed to laugh. For some minutes they stood gazing in silent despondency at the sea.
“What’s that?” exclaimed Jack, with sudden animation, pointing to an object which appeared at the moment near the extremity of a point of rocks not far from the spot where they stood—“a canoe?”
“Two of ’em!” cried O’Donel, as another object came into view.