And look here again; I took you for a victim o' misfortun', but if so be as you're startin' to teach the R'yal family tact, w'y, I changes my opinion." "If I could only find my friend Basket, or get a message taken to him," ingeminated the Major, whose teeth were chattering despite the tropical atmosphere of the gallery.
"Eh?
What's that you're sayin' ?" the seaman demanded in a sudden sharp tone of suspicion.

"If there's a friend o' your'n in the gallery, you keep by me and point him out when the time comes.
I ain't a-makin' no promise, mind; no more than to say it may be the better for him; but contrariwise I don't allow no messages, and you may belay to that!" "But my friend is not in the gallery.

He has a reserved seat somewhere." "Then you may take it he don't _require_ no message, bein' toler'bly safe.

As for yourself, you stick to me.

Understand?
Whatever happens, you stick to me." The Major did not understand in the least; but their conversation at this moment was interrupted by a roar of applause from all quarters of the house as Tom Taffrail, with a realistic blow from the shoulder, laid his persecutor prostrate on the deck.
"Brayvo!" grunted Bill Adams.