I wonder what o'clock it is, thought Smallbones, when he thought he
heard a distant sound. Smallbones pricked up his ears and
listened;--yes, it was in regular cadence, and became louder and louder.
It was a boat pulling.
"Well, I am sure," thought Smallbones, "they'll think they have caught a
queer fish anyhow:" and he waited very patiently for the fisherman to
come up. At last he perceived the boat, which was very long and pulled
many oars. "They be the smuglars," thought Smallbones.
"I wonder whether they'll pick up a poor lad? Boat ahoy!"
The boat continued to pass towards the coast, impelled at the speed of
seven or eight miles an hour, and was now nearly abreast of Smallbones,
and not fifty yards from him.
"I say, boat ahoy!" screamed Smallbones, to the extent of his voice.
He was heard this time, and there was a pause in the pulling, the boat
still driving through the water with the impulse which had been given
her, as if she required no propelling power.
"I say you arn't a going for to come for to leave a poor lad here to be
drowned, are you?"
"That's Smallbones, I'll swear," cried Jemmy Ducks, who was steering the
boat, and who immediately shifted the helm.
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