"
"Oh!! And if we get pooped?"
"We shall go to Davy Jones, like a bullet."
"Who is Davy Jones?"
"The Old One, you know--down below. Leastways you won't go there,
miss; you will go aloft, and perhaps the skipper; but Davy will have
me; so I won't give him a chance, if I can help it."
Lucy cried.
"Where are we, Mr. Jack?"
"British Channel."
"I know that; but whereabouts?"
"Heaven knows; and no doubt the skipper, he knows; but I don't. I am
only a common sailor. Shall I hail the skipper? he will tell you."
"No, no, no. He is so angry if we speak."
"He won't be angry if you speak to him, miss," said Jack, with a sly
grin, that brought a faint color into Lucy's cheek; "you should have
seen him, how anxious he was about you before we came alongside; and
the moment that lubber went forward to dip the lug, says he, 'Jack,
there will be mischief; up mainsail and run down to them. I have no
confidence in that tall boy.' (He do seem a long, weedy, useless sort
of lubber.) Lord bless you, miss, we luffed, and were running down to
you long before you made the signal of distress with your little white
flag." Lucy's cheeks got redder. "No, miss, if the skipper speaks
severe to you, Jack Painter is blind with one eye, and can't see with
t'other."
Lucy's cheeks were carnation.
But the next moment they were white, for a terrible event interrupted
this chat. Two huge waves rolled one behind the other, an occurrence
which luckily is not frequent; the boat, descending into the valley of
the sea, had the wind taken out of her sails by the high wave that was
coming.
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