"Hullo old sprat-catcher!—Going for a sail?" called out a soldier, and I knew that the group were all round our boat, Heru trembling so violently in my breast that I thought she would make the vessel shake.
"Yes," said the man gruffly.
"Let's go with him," cried several voices. "Here, old dried haddock, will you take us if we help haul your nets for you?"
"No, I won't. Your ugly faces would frighten all the fish out of the sea."
"And yours, you old chunk of dried mahogany, is meant to attract them no doubt."
"Let's tie him to a post and go fishing in his boat ourselves," some one suggested. Meanwhile two of them began rocking the cobble violently from side to side. This was awful, and every moment I expected the net and the sail which our friend had thrown down unceremoniously upon us would roll off.
"Oh, stop that," said the Martian, who was no doubt quite as well aware of the danger as we were. "The tide's full, the shoals are in the bay—stop your nonsense, and help me launch like good fellows."
"Well, take two of us, then. We will sit on this heap of nets as quiet as mice, and stand you a drink when we get back."
"No, not one of you," quoth the plucky fellow, "and here's my staff in my hand, and if you don't
