"Well, Mr Jack," said Ned grimly, "I don't like to tell you; but it seems to me that we're off on a voyage to nigger-land, and yet the newspapers say that slavery's nearly done away with now." "Slavery?" said Jack, and his heart sank within him. "Oh, Ned, that would be awful." "Better than being made beef and mutton of, Mr Jack. But don't you be down-hearted; p'r'aps we may be together after all, and if we are, there ain't nothing I won't do to make it easier for you, sir, and we'll cut and run, as the sailors say, some day. Ups and downs in life we see; right-tooral-looral-looral-lee. There's only heads and tails to a penny, and if you spin it up in the air, it sometimes comes down one side, and sometimes the other. Well, it's come down wrong way for us this time, next time p'r'aps it may come down right. If it don't, well, you've got too much pluck in you to howl about it: so have I. Here, I don't care; let's look at the bright side of things." "Oh, Ned, how can we at a time like this?" groaned Jack. "Easy, sir. It's all adventures, and it might be a jolly deal worse." "How?" "Why, this might be a poor old leaky canoe as wasn't safe, and all the time it's a fizzer. See how it goes. Then we might have had a shabby, common-looking crew; but I will say it for them, spite of all the love I don't bear for 'em, they're the blackest and shiniest set of fellows I ever did see. Look at their backs in the warm light; why, you might see to shave in 'em--well, I might; you're lucky enough not to have any beard yet." "It don't seem as if I shall live to have one, Ned." "Tchah! nonsense. You'll live to a hundred now. This voyage has made a man of you, my lad. All you've got to do is to keep up your pluck. I say, look at 'em, Mr Jack; they paddle splendid. Talk about our boat-races; why look here, I'd back these chaps. What's that old song? You know; voices keep toon and our oars keep time--only it's paddles. Row, brothers, row. Keep it up, niggers. Slaves indeed! why they're the slaves, not us; we're sitting here as jolly as two lords in a 'lectric launch, going down to Richmond to eat whitebait and drink champagne. Let's see though, I don't mean Richmond, I mean Blackwall. Let's think we've got a crew of blacks taking us to Blackwall." "Why, Ned!" cried Jack excitedly, "they're paddling straight across the lagoon for the reef." "That's right, Mr Jack; so they are," said Ned recklessly. "Hooray! who cares! Go it, you black beggars. I say, Mr Jack, sir, look; did you ever see such lovely heads of hair? They'd make splendid grenadiers, and be an advantage to Government to 'list a lot of 'em. They'd come so cheap. They wouldn't want any clothes, and there they are with their busbies a-growing already on their heads. Might call 'em the Blackguards, and that's what they are." "But, Ned, this long low canoe can never weather the waves on the reef."