“Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come!” said Letta, running up, to him and giving him both hands to shake, and a ready little mouth to kiss, “for I didn’t like to awaken your friends, and the sailor one looks so still that I fear he may be dying. I saw one of the naughty men die here, and he looked just like that.”
Somewhat alarmed by this, Sam went at once to the sailor and looked earnestly at him.
“No fear, Letta,” he said, “the poor fellow is not dying; he is only in a very profound sleep, having been much exhausted and nearly killed yesterday. Hallo, Robin! awake at last?”
Robin, who had been roused by the voices, rubbed his eyes, yawned vociferously, and looked vacantly round.
“Well, now, that’s most extraordinary; it isn’t a dream after all!”
“It’s an uncommon pleasant dream, if it is one,” remarked Jim Slagg, with a grave stare at Robin, as he sat up on his couch. “I never in all my born days dreamt such a sweet smell of coffee and fried sausages. Why, the old ’ooman’s a-bringin’ of ’em in, I do declare. Pinch me, Stumps, to see if I’m awake!”
As Stumps was still asleep, Slagg himself resorted to the method referred to, and roused his comrade. In a few minutes they were all seated at breakfast with the exception of the sailor, whom it was thought best to leave to his repose until nature should whisper in his ear.
“Well now,” said Slagg, pausing to rest for a few seconds, “if we had a submarine cable ’tween this and England, and we was to give ’em an account of all we’ve seen an’ bin doin’, they’d never believe it.”
“Cer’nly not. They’d say it wos all a passel o’ lies,” remarked Stumps; “but I say, Mr Sam—”
“Come now, Stumps, don’t ‘Mister’ me any more.”