Between his words he kept sending out pannikins of water rapidly to ease
the boat, for it was above our ankles as we sat and pulled.

"Nice fellows all of you!" grumbled old Jonas. "Why, you all look blue.
Fool's trick! Who put it up?"

"I--I don't know what you mean, Mr Uggleston," I said.

"Who proposed to swim off to the lugger? Was it Bigley?"

"N-no, Mr Uggleston," I panted, half hysterically, as I tugged at the
oar, an example followed by Bob Chowne, who was very silent and very
blue.

"Soon as I get you aboard, I'll give you all a good rope's-ending, and
chance what your fathers say," grumbled old Uggleston, as he sent the
water flashing over the side. "I suppose it was my Bigley as set you at
it, wasn't it?"

"No, sir," I said, as I rapidly grew more composed now. "We were on the
rock yonder, and had to swim for it. We wanted to get to shore."

"And the current took you out, eh? Of course it would. Then you
weren't swimming for the lugger, eh?"

"Oh, no, sir," I cried; "we had forgotten all about the boat."

"Then, where were you going to swim to--Swansea?" he cried.

"I don't know, sir," I said dolefully.

"No more do I," he snarled. "'Cross the sea to Ireland, eh? And no
biscuit and water. Ah, you ought to be all rope's-ended. How came you
on the rock?"

I told him.

"Lucky I saw you all standing on it white-skinned against the black
rocks. I see you all dive in and took my spy-glass, and see you
swimming this way, and when I told Binnacle Bill, he said just what I
thought, that you was swimming out to the lugger, and wouldn't do it,
and so I took the boat and come to you, and I'm sorry I did now."

"Sorry, sir?" I said.

"Ay, sorry. You're a set o' young swabs. What's the good of either of
you but to give trouble. Here, where are your clothes? Under the
cliff?"

"No, sir," I said dolefully. "We undressed on the big flat rock there,
and tied them up in bundles."

"Bundles? Where are they then?"

"Lost mine," said Bob, speaking for the first time.

"Oh, you're coming round then, are you?" cried old Jonas. "You've lost
yours then; and has my Bigley lost all his kit?"

"Yes, sir; we've all lost our bundles, unless they get thrown up by the
tide."

"Which they won't," snarled old Jonas. "Rope's end it is, for if I
don't thrash that big ugly cub of mine as soon as I get him aboard,
I'll--Now then, what are you yawing about that way for? Easy, captain!
Pull, doct