What d'ye say? Are you
game?"
Still I hesitated, but before I could speak he anticipated me and
returned to his fidelity.
"No, you can't do it, Mr. Pathurst. If by any luck they got the both
of us . . . No; we'll just stay aft and sit tight until they're
starved to it . . . But where they get their tucker gets me. For'ard
she's as bare as a bone, as any decent ship ought to be, and yet look
at 'em, rolling hog fat. And by rights they ought to a-quit eatin' a
week ago."
CHAPTER XLIV
Yes, it is certainly mutiny. Collecting water from the leaders of
the chart-house in a shower of rain this morning, Buckwheat exposed
himself, and a long, lucky revolver-shot from for'ard caught him in
the shoulder. The bullet was small-calibre and spent ere it reached
him, so that he received no more than a flesh-wound, though he
carried on as if he were dying until Mr. Pike hushed his noise by
cuffing his ears.
I should not like to have Mr. Pike for my surgeon. He probed for the
bullet with his little finger, which was far too big for the
aperture; and with his little finger, while with his other hand he
threatened another ear-clout, he gouged out the leaden pellet.
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