“Well, then, tell me how I came here.”
“Faix, didn’t I carry ye on my back?”
“Yes, but after the fight?”
“Afther the foight – oh! is it afther the foight ye mane? Sure, and it was the skipper’s ordhers, and I carried ye here, and Bart – you know the tother one – he brought in the bed and the rugs and things to make ye dacent. It’s a bit damp, and the threes have a bad habit of putting in their noses like the pigs at home; but it’s an illigant bed-room for a gintleman afther all.”
“It was the captain’s orders, you say?”
“Sure, an’ it was.”
“And where are we?”
“Why, here we are.”
“Yes, yes; but what place is this?”
“Sure, an’ it’s the skipper’s palace.”
“Commodore Junk’s?”
“Yis.”
“And what place is it – where are we?”
“Faix, and they say that sick payple is hard to deal wid. It’s what I’m telling you sure. It’s the skipper’s palace, and here it is.”
“My good fellow, you told me all that; but I want to know whereabouts it is.”
“Oh-h! Whereabouts it is, you mane!”
“Yes, yes.”
“Why, right away in the woods.”
“Far from the shore!”
“Ah, would ye!” cried Dinny, with a grin full of cunning. “Ye’d be getting all the information out of me, and then as soon as ye get well be running away.”
“Yes,” said Humphrey, “If I can.”
“Well, that’s honest,” cried Dinny. “And it’s meself would do it if I got a chance.”
“No,” said Humphrey, sadly; “I could not do that and leave my men.”
“Faix, and they’d leave ye if they got a chance, sor.”
“How are they all!”
“Oh, they’re getting right enough,” said Dinny. “Ye’ve been the worst of ’em all yerself, and if ye don’t make haste ye’ll be last.”
“But tell me, my lad, why am I kept in prison!”
“Tell ye why you’re kept in prison?”
“Yes.”
“An’ ye want to know! Well, divil a wan of us can tell, unless it’s the skipper’s took a fancy to ye bekase ye’re such a divil to fight, and he wants ye to jyne the rigiment.”
“Regiment! Why, you’ve been a soldier!”
“And is it me a sodjer! Why, ye’ll be wanting to make out next that I was a desarther when was only a prishner of war.” Humphrey sighed.
“Sure, and ye’re wanting something, sor. What’ll I get ye! The skipper said ye were to have iverything you wanted.”
“Then give me my liberty, my man, and let me go back to England – and disgrace.”
“Sure, and I wouldn’t go back to England to get that, sor. I’d sooner shtop here. The skipper’s always telling Bart to look afther ye well.”
“Why?” said Humphrey, sharply.
“Why?” said Dinny, scratching his head; “perhaps he wants to get ye in good condition before ye’re hung.”
“Hung?”
“Yis, sor. That’s what Black Mazzard says.”
“Is that the man who tried to cut me down with a boarding-axe?”
“That’s the gintleman, sor; and now let me put ye tidy, and lay yer bed shtraight. Sure, and ye’ve got an illigant cabin here, as is good enough for a juke. Look at the ornaments on the walls.”
“Are there any more places like this?”
“Anny more! Sure, the wood’s full of ’em.”
“But about here?”
“About here! Oh, this is only a little place. Sure, we all live here always when we ar’n’t aboard the schooner.”
“Ah, yes! The schooner. She was quite destroyed, was she not?”
“Divil a bit, sor. Your boys didn’t shoot straight enough. The ship ye came in was, afther we’d got all we wanted out of her. She was burnt to the wather’s edge, and then she sank off the reef.”
Humphrey groaned.
“Ye needn’t do that, sor, for she was a very owld boat, and not safe for a journey home. Mak’ yer mind aisy, and mak’ this yer home. There’s plinty of room for ye, and – whisht! here’s the captain coming. What’ll he be doing here?”
“The captain!” cried Humphrey. “Then that man took my message.”