“Don’t care about it, sir,” replied Hearty, in a more feeble voice than usual. “Don’t care if I had as many holes in me as a sieve; but to be circumwented in this here ’bominable way by a set o’ rascally pirates arn’t to be endured.”
“Hush!” exclaimed Tourniquet, looking round him anxiously, to see if any of the victors were within hearing. “You must be cautious of what you say, don’t you see.”
“While I a got a breath o’ wind in the canvass I’ll tell ’em they’re a set o’ murderin’ thieves,” cried the brave old fellow, with all his remaining strength.
“Hush, I tell you!” said the alarmed doctor. “Do you want to have me murdered as well as yourself? Keep your tongue still, or every soul of us left alive in the ship will be massacred.”
“Where’s Master Porphyry?” asked the man, languidly.
“Safe,” replied the surgeon.
“Glad on’t. And Master Zabra, they arn’t a done him no harm, the villains?” he inquired anxiously.
“Both are unhurt,” said Tourniquet, in a whisper; “and the only way you can keep them so, is to remain as quiet as possible, and say nothing to incense your conquerors; and who knows, but that after you have recovered, you may have an opportunity of doing them some service, don’t you see.”
“The very thought a’most sets me on my legs again,” observed his patient, clasping the doctor’s hand affectionately.