“An’ Ned,” siz I, “can’t you cram me down there, and give me a lock ov straw an’ a bit?”
“Why, Darby,” siz he (an’ he look’d mighty pittyfull), “I must thry. But mind, Darby, you’ll have to hide all day in an empty barrel, and when it comes to my watch, I’ll bring you down some prog; but if you’re diskiver’d, it’s all over with me, an’ you’ll be put on a dissilute island to starve.”
“O Ned,” siz I, “leave it all to me.”
When night cum on I got down into the dark cellar, among the barrels; and poor Ned every night brought me down hard black cakes an’ salt meat. There I lay snug for a whole month. At last, one night, siz he to me:—
“Now, Darby, what’s to be done? we’re within three days’ sail ov Quebec; the ship will be overhauled, and all the passengers’ names call’d over.”
“An’ is that all that frets you, my jewel,” siz I; “just get me an empty meal-bag, a bottle, an’ a bare ham bone, and that’s all I’ll ax.”
So Ned got them for me, anyhow.
“Well, Ned,” siz I, “you know I’m a great shwimmer; your watch will be early in the morning; I’ll just slip down into the sea; do you cry out ‘There’s a man in the wather,’ as loud as you can, and leave all the rest to me.”
Well, to be sure, down into the sea I dropt without as much as a splash. Ned roared out with the hoarseness of a brayin’ ass—