"But we don't want to pull away, sir. They thinks we're fear'd on 'em. There's about a hundred on 'em--dirty yaller-faced beggars, and there's four o' us, without counting you. Just you give the word, sir, and we'll row back in spite o' their stones, and make the whole gang on 'em run. Eh, mates?" "Ay, ay!" said the others, lying on their oars. "Pull!" I cried sharply, and they began rowing again; for though I should have liked to give the word, I knew that it would not only have been madness, but disobedience of orders. My duty was to take care of the boat, and this I was doing by having it rowed out beyond stone-throwing reach, with the Union Jack waving astern; and as soon as the stones fell short, and only splashed the water yards away, I had the grapnel dropped overboard, and we swung to it, waiting for the captain's return. The men sat chewing their tobacco, lolling in the sun, and I lay back watching the crowd at the edge of the water, wondering how long the captain and his escort would be, and whether the prisoners would be given up. "Hope none o' them pigtailed varmint won't shy mud at the skipper," said one of the men, yawning. "I hope they will," said Tom Jecks. "Why, mate?" "'Cause he'll order the jollies to fix bayonets and feel some o' their backs with the p'ints." The conversation interested me, and I forgot my dignity as an officer, and joined in. "Bayonets make bad wounds, Jecks," I said. "Yes, sir, they do; nasty three-side wounds, as is bad to get healed up again. They aren't half such a nice honest weapon as a cutlash. But I should like to see them beggars get a prod or two." "It might mean trouble, Jecks, and a big rising of the people against the English merchants and residents." "Well, sir, that would be unpleasant for the time, but look at the good it would do! The British consul would send off to the _Teaser_, the skipper would land a lot on us--Jacks and jollies; we should give these warmint a good sharp dressing-down; and they'd know as we wouldn't stand any of their nonsense, and leave off chucking stones and mud at us. Now, what had we done that we couldn't be 'lowed to lie alongside o' the wharf yonder? We didn't say nothing to them. Fact is, sir, they hates the British, and thinks they're a sooperior kind o' people altogether. Do you hear, mates?--sooperior kind o' people; and there ain't one as could use a knife and fork like a Chrishtian." "And goes birds'-nestin' when they wants soup," said another. "Well, I don't fall foul o' that, matey," said Jecks; "'cause where there's nests there's eggs, and a good noo-laid egg ain't bad meat. It's the nastiness o' their natur' that comes in there, and makes 'em eat the nest as well. What I do holler at, is their cooking dog." "And cat," said another. "And rat," cried the third.