Part 38 (1/2)

”Because I shall if you talk to me like that. Old Big didn't make me.

I was cold and--”

”Frightened,” I said.

”No, I wasn't frightened, sneak.”

”Well, I was, horribly,” I said. ”I thought we should never get to sh.o.r.e again. Weren't you frightened, Big?”

”Never felt so frightened before since I got wedged in the rocks,” said Bigley coolly.

”Then you are a pair of cowards,” cried Bob sharply. ”I was so cold and wet and stiff I could hardly move, but I never felt frightened in the least.”

I looked at Bigley, and found that he was looking at me; and then he laid his head against the bulkhead, and shut his eyes and laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks, and I laughed too, as the picture of ourselves in the open boat came before me again, with Bigley ordering Bob to get up and row, and him s.h.i.+vering and sobbing and protesting like a child.

”What are you laughing at?” he cried. ”You've got out of your trouble now and you want to quarrel, I suppose. But I sha'n't; I don't want to fight. Only wait till we get across, you won't laugh when old Jony Uggleston comes down on you both for taking the boat. I shall say I didn't want you to, but you would. And then you've got my father and your father to talk to you after that.”

But in spite of these unpleasant visions of trouble, which he conjured up, Bigley and I still laughed, for, boy-like, the danger pa.s.sed, its memory did not trouble us much. We had escaped: we were safe; Bob was making himself ridiculously comic by his hectoring brag, and all we wanted to do was to laugh.

In the midst of our mirth, and while Bob Chowne was growing more and more absurd by putting on indignant airs, the hatchway was darkened again by the French skipper's petticoats and boots, and directly after he stood before us smiling and rubbing his hands.

”Aha, you!” he said. ”You better well, mosh better. I make you jolly boys, eh?”

”Yes, sir, we are much better now,” I exclaimed, holding out my hand.

”We are so much obliged to you for helping us as you have.”

”Mon garcon, mon ami,” he exclaimed; and instead of shaking hands, he folded me in his arms and kissed me on both cheeks. I stepped back as soon as I was free, and stood watching as he served Bigley the same, and then took hold of Bob, whose face wore such an absurdly comical aspect of horror and disgust, that I stood holding my breath, and not daring to look at Bigley for fear I should roar with laughter.

”Dat is well,” exclaimed the skipper. ”It is done, my braves. Good-- good--good. You tink I speak Engleish magnificentment, is it not?”

He looked round at us all, and nodded a great many times. ”Now you are warm dry, come on ze pont and see my sheep. Ze belle cha.s.se maree. She sail like de bird. Is it not? Now come see.”

We went on deck, and found as he took us about amongst the crew of seven men, all wearing petticoat canvas trousers, that the big lugger was very dirty and untidy, wanting in paint, and with the deck, or pont as the skipper called it, one litter of baskets, packages, and uncoiled ropes.

On the other hand she seemed to be very long and well shaped, and her masts, which were thick and short, had large yards and tremendous sails, which in a favourable wind sent her through the water at a very rapid rate.

”Aha! You lofe my sheep,” said the skipper, as he watched our faces.

”You tink she run herselfs very fas, eh?”

We expressed our pleasure, which was the greater that we could see now that the two bold ma.s.ses which formed the entrance to the Gap were right before us; but even now, as far as we could judge, six or seven miles away.

We took a good deal of notice of this, for it showed us how far we had been driven out by the fierce little gale of the previous night; and as I looked over the stern at where our boat was being towed along in the foam, and was thinking that we must have had a narrow escape, the French skipper clapped me on the shoulder, laughed, and said:

”You wonder you not go to feed ze fishes at ze bottom? Yes, much; et moi aussi. Ah, mon brave, you nearly go, and--no boat--no boy--no noting. Hah!”

I s.h.i.+vered as I realised the truth of what he said, and was musing over what was to come, when Bigley came to me, for the skipper had gone to his men.

”Don't tease Bob,” he said. ”Don't say anything to him about being queer last night, nor about me bullying him. He couldn't help it.”