Poor Gaff could scarce command himself sufficiently to reply—
“We’re Englishmen—bin cast away—five years now—”
He could go no farther, but, seizing the boy’s hand, shook it warmly. The Bu’ster, being equally incapable of speaking, seized the hand of the sailor next him, and also shook it violently. Then he uttered a cheer, and turning suddenly round ran along the beach for half a mile like a greyhound, after which he returned and asserted that his feelings were somewhat relieved!
Meanwhile the middy continued to question Gaff.
“What! d’ye mean to say you’ve been five years here—all alone?”
“Ay, all but a few days,” said Gaff, looking round on the men with a bewildered air. “How strange yer voices sound! Seems as if I’d a’most forgotten what men are like!”
“Well, you are a queer fish,” said the boy with a laugh. “Are there no more here but you two?”
“No more; just Billy and me—also Squeaky and Shrieky.”
Gaff said this quite gravely, for nothing was farther from his thoughts at that time than jesting.
“And pray, who may Squeaky and Shrieky be?”