"I did," growled the carpenter; "and I stick to it."

"He said that as soon as it was dark he should manage to lower one of the boats and follow yours, and ask you to take him as crew; and if you wouldn't, he should go ash.o.r.e and turn Robinson Crusoe."

"That's right, boy," said the carpenter; "and I would."

"And I says to him, sir, 'Bill Cross,' I says, 'if I tars myself black, will you let me come with you and be your man Friday?'"

"And what did he say to that?" asked my uncle, frowning.

"Said I was black enough already, sir, without my having a black eye; and if I come with him, he'd promise me never to behave half so bad as the skipper did, so of course I come."

"Took one of the ship's boats and stole away with it?" said my uncle.

The boy nodded, and my uncle turned to the carpenter.

"Is this all true?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, every word of it. You know how bad it was."

"And you followed our boat?"

"Followed the way we last saw your sail, sir, for long before it was dark the boat went out of sight. But just as I'd give up all hope of seeing it again, we saw your fire like a spark on sh.o.r.e, and we come after that."

"Rowed?" I said.

"No, sir; sailed. There's a little lug-sail to the boat. We didn't lose sight of the fire again, and at last we ran our boat ash.o.r.e."

"And you've come to offer your services?" said my uncle.

"Yes, sir," said the man gruffly.

"But even if I could take you under the circ.u.mstances, I don't want the services of any man."

"Your's is a big boat, sir, and hard to manage, particular at sea," said the carpenter.

"I know the boat's capabilities better than you can tell me," said my uncle shortly, "and I do not require help."

"Then we've made a bad job of it, boy," said the carpenter.

"The gentleman don't know what we can do, Bill, and how useful we should be."

"I daresay," said my uncle, frowning, "but I do not want a man, nor another lad."

"If you'll only let me stop, sir," said the boy piteously. "I don't want no wages, and I won't eat much, only what you've done with, and there arn't nothing I won't do. I'll carry anything, and work--oh, how I will work! I'll be like your dog, I will, and you can both knock me about and kick me, and I won't say a word. You won't hit me half so hard as the skipper and the men did; and even if you did, you're only two, and there's twenty of them; so if you're allus doing it I shall be ten times better off."

"It's my duty to send you and your mate, here, back to the ship," said Uncle d.i.c.k.

"Oh, don't say that, sir," cried the boy; "but if you did, we shouldn't go, for Bill Cross said if you wouldn't take us along with you we'd go and live in the woods, and if we starved to death there, we should be better off than aboard ship."

"But you signed for the voyage, my man," said Uncle d.i.c.k, "and if I consented to take you with me I should be helping you to defraud the owners."

"Serve the owners right, sir, for having their people treated like dogs, or worse," growled the carpenter. "'Sides, I don't see what fraud there is in it. I've worked hard these two months, and drawn no pay. They'll get that, and they may have it and welcome."

"That's all very well," said Uncle d.i.c.k, "but a bargain's a bargain.

The want of two hands in an emergency may mean the loss of the ship, and you and this lad have deserted. No; I can't agree to it; you must take your boat and go back."

"Can't, sir, now," said the carpenter bitterly; "and I thought we was coming to English gentlemen who would behave to a couple of poor wretches like Christians."

"It is no part of a Christian's duty to be unjust. You know you have done wrong and have helped this poor lad to do the same," said my uncle.

"I should have fought it out, sir, if it hadn't been for the poor boy.

Dog's life's nothing to what he went through."

"Where is your boat?" said Uncle d.i.c.k, suddenly.

The carpenter laughed.

"I dunno, sir," he said; "we sent her adrift when we landed, and you know what the currents are along here better, p'raps, than I do."

"What! you've sent your boat adrift?"

"Yes, sir; we made up our minds to cut and run, and we can't go back now. We didn't want to steal the boat. They'll get it again."

Uncle d.i.c.k frowned and turned to me.

"This is a pretty state of affairs, Nat; and it's like forcing us to take them on board and sail after the steamer. What's to be done?"

"Cannot we keep them, uncle?"

"Keep them? I don't want a boy to kick and knock about and jump on, sir. Do you?"

"Well, no, uncle," I said; "but--"

"But! Yes, it's all very well to say 'but,' my lad. You don't see how serious it is."

"I'd serve you faithful, sir," said the carpenter. "I'm not going to brag, but I'm a handy man, sir. You might get a hole in the boat, and I didn't bring no clothes, but I brought my tools, and I'm at home over a job like that. You might want a hut knocked up, or your guns mended.

I'd do anything, sir, and I don't ask for pay. It might come to your wanting help with the blacks. If you did, I'd fight for you all I could."

"Well, I don't know what to do, Nat. What do you say?"

The boy darted forward wildly and threw himself upon his knees.

"Say _yes_, Mr Nat; say _yes_!" he cried imploringly. "Don't send us off, sir, and you shan't never repent it. You know what made us run away. Say yes, sir; oh, say yes!"

"I can't say anything else, uncle," I said, in a husky voice.

"Hooray!" yelled the boy, throwing his cap in the air. "Do you hear, Bill Cross? The gentleman says 'yes'!"

The loud shout and the flying up of the cap had the effect of starting a little flock of birds from the nearest trees, and, obeying the instinct of the moment, Uncle d.i.c.k raised his gun and fired--two barrels, each of which laid low one of the birds, which dropped in different directions.