One night a gentle breeze sprang up and blew directly off shore. As it seemed likely to last, the Captain waited till the whole community was asleep, and then quietly roused his son.
“Lend a hand here, Ben,” he whispered, “and make no noise.”
Benjy arose and followed his father in a very sleepy frame of mind.
They went to the place where the india-rubber boats lay, close behind the Englishmen’s hut, and, unscrewing the brass heads that closed the air-holes, began to press out the air.
“That’s it, Ben, but don’t squeeze too hard, lest the hissing should rouse some of ’em.”
“What’r ’ee doin’ this for—ee—yaou?” asked Benjy, yawning.
“You’ll see that to-morrow, lad.”
“Hum! goin’ t’squeeze’m all?”
“Yes, all three, and put ’em in their boxes.”
The conversation flagged at this point, and the rest of the operation was performed in silence.