But George shook his head.
“No, Redfern,” he said, quietly, “I won’t give that silly Pierre the least satisfaction. Unless Captain Jack puts me ashore, and it would be a mighty big scrap while it lasted, I’m going to keep on.”
“I give it up, then,” said Redfern, with a sigh.
“If a fleet o’ war vessels doesn’t come after us before I get started, I’ll put that remark in my history,” said Joe. “It will have to be a work in two volumes, quarto size, illustrated from life and otherwise by old Cap Lyons.”
“How I wish you’d begin. I do like to read funny things,” remarked Fred, with a very solemn face.
“It will be full of wit and pathos, also ginger, kind sir,” said Joe.
Jack kept the “Gray Gull” about fifty yards from shore. The atmosphere seemed to quiver with heat. The landscape was bathed in a yellow light, and the glare in the water was hard to look upon.
Jack tied the steering gear, and they retired within, each taking a turn at the window to see that the way was clear.
During the afternoon, the heat increased, the faint breeze entirely disappeared, and not a cloud spotted the sky.
Poor Confuse-us lay panting in a corner, gazing pitifully from one to another, scarcely able to enjoy his customary nap.