I told him that we should soon see. We had not yet shown ourselves, and Wabberley continued shouting, sometimes, "Ahoy!" sometimes my name, always prefixing the respectful appellative "master," and not calling me plain "Brent," as Hoggett had done. Since the main group of men were pretty near a furlong from us, and we were far above them, I thought we might safely show ourselves; whereupon we mounted the boulder, and the moment he saw us Wabberley waved his flag and came a pace or two nearer. Here I will set down, as near as I can remember them, the exact words of the conversation (if such it can be called) that ensued. "What do you want?" "Why, sir, d'ye see, we're terrible short of grub." "Well?" "Pretty near starved." "Well?" "Only scraps for the last three days." "Yes?" Here he paused, finding little encouragement in my monosyllables, and though he was usually glib enough, it was not easy, I dare say, to be eloquent when he had to shout so that his voice would reach to us so far above him. But he now assumed a most solemn and lugubrious expression of countenance, and cried-- "Dying fast!" "What of that?" "Can you do summat for us?" "Do what?" "Give us some grub." "Why?" "You wouldn't see your old shipmates starve!" (I wish I could convey with my pen the accent of surprise, pain, reproach, which trembled in his voice.) "You wouldn't see your old shipmates starve!" says he. "Why not?" At this his jaw dropped: he was struck dumb; he stared up at us for a little, and then, lowering his flag, he turned and went slowly back to the wood. "My eye! This is prime!" cried Billy, hugging himself with glee. "'Why not?' says you, and he ain't got no answer, 'cause there ain't none, at least, not a good one. Speaking short's much better than squirting a lot of words about, like my mother-in-law does--or did, for she may be dead."