It's wearisome work, yer honor, and, be jabers! it's bitterly cold." Bob buttoned his pilot coat closer around him and shivered.
"You are right, Bok." "Hullo, Bob!" Our hero looked around and perceived Jack Larmore's head above the companion.
"Come down to breakfast, before it's cold," cried Jack.
Our hero made a bolt down the ladder after his friend.
"What is your opinion, Bob, about the men ?" asked Captain Sumner, as Bob took his place at the table.

"I mean the rascals I had to iron up last week." "Well, sir," replied our hero, "they seem to go about their duty all right, but after our experience, we must never trust them." "It's that scoundrel, Nockey, that I mistrust.

The others are more fools than knaves.

He will never forgive that flogging I gave him." "It served him all right," broke in Bob.

"When we gave them the choice of taking a couple of dozen or going ashore, not one hesitated." "Well, even now, we have only eight hands and ourselves." "What do you mean to do, papa ?" broke in Viola.