'
"'What's the use to tell me that?' he asked, still keeping his air of
insolence. 'Drop your bedside manner, and present your report.'
"'I will,' said I. 'One of us two has to be master on this island?
So you said, and you shall be he; sole master, Farrell, with your
damned dog. . . . There's a schooner at this moment making an offing
from the anchorage where, as I've always told you, we'd been wiser to
pitch our camp. I guess she put in to water, and I've missed her
whilst I was busy curing your body. . . . Well, better late than
never! She's hauling to north'ard, well wide: so you'll understand
I'm in something of a hurry. . . . You're on the way to recovery,
Farrell, and this makes twice that I've saved your life: but as yet
you can neither walk nor crawl, and I give you joy of your bonfire,
up yonder. In five minutes I push off, alone.'
"He raised himself slowly, staring, and fell forward grovelling,
attempting vainly to catch me by the ankles.
"'You won't--you can't! Oh, for God's pity say you don't mean it!
Say it's a joke, and I'll forgive you, though it's a cruel one.
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