See?
Clear your blooming heads!" He was in his jacket now,
and spoke with a feverish impatience and contention
that rang like anger.
"But is it safe?" asked Tommy.
"Safe?" bellowed the captain. "We're standing on the
drop, you moon-calf! If that ship's bound for China
(which she don't look to be), we're lost as soon as we
arrive; if she's bound the other way, she comes from
China, don't she? Well, if there's a man on board of
her that ever clapped eyes on Trent, or any blooming
hand out of this brig, we'll all be in irons in two
hours. Safe! no, it ain't safe; it's a beggarly last
chance to shave the gallows, and that's what it is."
At this convincing picture fear took hold on all.
"Hadn't we a hundred times better stay by the brig?"
cried Carthew. "They would give us a hand to float her
off."
"You'll make me waste this holy day in chattering!"
cried Wicks. "Look here, when I sounded the well this
morning there was two foot of water there against eight
inches last night. What's wrong? I don't know; might
be nothing; might be the worst kind of smash.
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