“You’d better get below, my gals,” said Biddle, who was the eldest member of the crew, consolingly.
“Why don’t you make him take us back?” said Jenny Evans, the biggest of the three girls, indignantly.
“’Cos we can’t, my dear,” said Biddle reluctantly; “it’s agin the lor. You don’t want to see us put into prison, do you?”
“I don’t mind,” said Miss Evans tearfully, “so long as we get back. George, take us back.”
“I can’t,” said Scott sullenly.
“Well, you can look for somebody else, then,” said Miss Evans with temper. “You won’t marry me. How much would you get if you did make the skipper put back?”
“Very likely six months,” said Biddle solemnly.
“Six months would soon pass away,” said Miss Evans briskly, as she wiped her eye.
“It would be a rest,” said Miss Williams coaxingly.
The men not seeing things in quite the same light, they announced their intention of having nothing more to do with them, and crowding together in the bows beneath two or three blankets, condoled tearfully with each other on their misfortunes. For some time the men stood by offering clumsy consolations, but tired at last of repeated rebuffs and insults went below and turned in, leaving the satisfied skipper at the wheel.