"He'll be all right when I've warmed and laced him up with the rope's end.

I'm going to make you all skip as soon as I get you aboard and there's room to move." "But he looks so ill, sir," I said, quite ignoring the rope's-ending.
"Of course he does, my lad.

So would you if you had gone down as far as he did, and swallowed as much water.

Easy.

In oars." I did not know we had rowed so far, but just then the boat bumped up against the side of the lugger, and old Jonas rose, took the painter as he stepped into the bows, and handed it to Binnacle Bill, whose grim old face relaxed into a grin as he saw our plight.
"What have you got, Master Uggles'on ?" he said.