Part 26 (1/2)
Between his words he kept sending out pannikins of water rapidly to ease the boat, for it was above our ankles as we sat and pulled.
”Nice fellows all of you!” grumbled old Jonas. ”Why, you all look blue.
Fool's trick! Who put it up?”
”I--I don't know what you mean, Mr Uggleston,” I said.
”Who proposed to swim off to the lugger? Was it Bigley?”
”N-no, Mr Uggleston,” I panted, half hysterically, as I tugged at the oar, an example followed by Bob Chowne, who was very silent and very blue.
”Soon as I get you aboard, I'll give you all a good rope's-ending, and chance what your fathers say,” grumbled old Uggleston, as he sent the water flas.h.i.+ng over the side. ”I suppose it was my Bigley as set you at it, wasn't it?”
”No, sir,” I said, as I rapidly grew more composed now. ”We were on the rock yonder, and had to swim for it. We wanted to get to sh.o.r.e.”
”And the current took you out, eh? Of course it would. Then you weren't swimming for the lugger, eh?”
”Oh, no, sir,” I cried; ”we had forgotten all about the boat.”
”Then, where were you going to swim to--Swansea?” he cried.
”I don't know, sir,” I said dolefully.
”No more do I,” he snarled. ”'Cross the sea to Ireland, eh? And no biscuit and water. Ah, you ought to be all rope's-ended. How came you on the rock?”
I told him.
”Lucky I saw you all standing on it white-skinned against the black rocks. I see you all dive in and took my spy-gla.s.s, and see you swimming this way, and when I told Binnacle Bill, he said just what I thought, that you was swimming out to the lugger, and wouldn't do it, and so I took the boat and come to you, and I'm sorry I did now.”
”Sorry, sir?” I said.
”Ay, sorry. You're a set o' young swabs. What's the good of either of you but to give trouble. Here, where are your clothes? Under the cliff?”
”No, sir,” I said dolefully. ”We undressed on the big flat rock there, and tied them up in bundles.”
”Bundles? Where are they then?”
”Lost mine,” said Bob, speaking for the first time.
”Oh, you're coming round then, are you?” cried old Jonas. ”You've lost yours then; and has my Bigley lost all his kit?”
”Yes, sir; we've all lost our bundles, unless they get thrown up by the tide.”
”Which they won't,” snarled old Jonas. ”Rope's end it is, for if I don't thrash that big ugly cub of mine as soon as I get him aboard, I'll--Now then, what are you yawing about that way for? Easy, captain!
Pull, doctor, will you? Now, both together. Regular stroke. That's better. And so's that,” he said, as he scooped out the last few drops of water with the tin pannikin, and finished off by sopping the remaining moisture with a piece of coa.r.s.e flannel stuff which he wrung out over the side.
Bob and I did not speak, but tugged at our oars, as absurd-looking a crew as was ever seen upon the Devon coast, while we kept looking pityingly at poor Bigley.
Poor fellow! He had placed his arms one on either side, resting upon the gunwale, and appeared to be hard set to keep his head up from his chest. Then he had one or two violent fits of coughing, and ended by sitting back in the bottom of the boat with a weary sigh and closing his eyes.