About This Book
"Bill!" "Aye, aye, bo!" "Guess this'll be a rum v'yage, mate." "Why, old shellback?" "'Cause I can't make out why we are wasting our time here, with the cargo all aboard and the wind fair." "Don't you fret yourself about that, Jem Backstay. The skipper knows what he's a-doing, and has got a heap o' 'sponsibility on them shoulders o' his'n—a fine ship and a valuable cargo to get home safe to old h'England with a short crew, and a lot o' murderin', blood-suckin' pirates all over the h'Indian seas!" "Pirates, Bill!" "Ay, pirates! I spoke plain enough, didn't I? But you needn't shiver in your skin like one of them white-livered Lascars we've got aboard in place of honest sailors, worse luck! You needn't have no cause to fear for the number o' your mess, bo; the cap'en—God bless him!—will see us safe through, you may be sure." "Right you are, Bill; you know the old man better nor I, and I s'pose he's taking cautions like?" "No fear, mate. He's got his head screwed on right enough, my bo." "And that's the reason, p'raps, he'd that long palaver with the admiral's flagship afore we come up the river?" "Ay," said Bill sententiously; "may be so."
