“Well, I don’t mind if I do,” said the boy, sitting down again. “You must know, then, that it’s reported there are pirates on the island.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Alice.
“D’ye know what pirates are, Puppy?”
“Hee! hee!” answered the girl.
“I do believe she don’t know nothin’,” said the boy, looking at her with an air of compassion “wot a sad thing it is to belong to a lower species of human natur! Well, I s’pose it can’t be helped. A pirate, Kickup, is a sea-robber. D’ye understand?”
“Ho! ho!”
“Ay, I thought so. Well, Alice, I am told that there’s been a lot o’ them landed on the island and took to chasin’ and killin’ the niggers, and Henry was all but killed by one o’ the niggers this very morning, an’ was saved by a big feller that’s a mystery to me, and by the Grampus, who is the best feller I ever met—a regular trump he is; and there’s all sorts o’ doubts, and fears, and rumours, and things of that sort, with a captain of the British navy, that you and I have read so much about, trying to find this pirate out, and suspectin’ everybody he meets is him. I only hope he won’t take it into his stupid head to mistake me for him—not so unlikely a thing after all.” And the youthful Corrie shook his head with much gravity, as he surveyed his rotund little legs complacently.
“What are you laughing at?” he added, suddenly, on observing that a bright smile had overspread Alice’s face.
“At the idea of you being taken for a pirate,” said the child.
“Hee! hee! ho! ho!” remarked Poopy.