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Chapter 12

           NowIcangoonthinkingwhateverIlike,andIshan’tfalloveraprecipiceorbedrowned,forthereheis,keepinghiseyeonme,shethought.

           Atthesametimetheyweresailingsofastalongbytherocksthatitwasveryexciting—itseemedasiftheyweredoingtwothingsatonce;theywereeatingtheirlunchhereinthesunandtheywerealsomakingforsafetyinagreatstormafterashipwreck.Wouldthewaterlast?Wouldtheprovisionslast?sheaskedherself,tellingherselfastorybutknowingatthesametimewhatwasthetruth.

           Theywouldsoonbeoutofit,Mr.RamsaywassayingtooldMacalister;buttheirchildrenwouldseesomestrangethings.Macalistersaidhewasseventy-fivelastMarch;Mr.Ramsaywasseventy-one.Macalistersaidhehadneverseenadoctor;hehadneverlostatooth.Andthat’sthewayI’dlikemychildrentolive—Camwassurethatherfatherwasthinkingthat,forhestoppedherthrowingasandwichintotheseaandtoldher,asifhewerethinkingofthefishermenandhowtheylived,thatifshedidnotwantitsheshouldputitbackintheparcel.Sheshouldnotwasteit.Hesaiditsowisely,asifheknewsowellallthethingsthathappenedintheworldthatsheputitbackatonce,andthenhegaveher,fromhisownparcel,agingerbreadnut,asifhewereagreatSpanishgentleman,shethought,handingaflowertoaladyatawindow(socourteoushismannerwas).Hewasshabby,andsimple,eatingbreadandcheese;andyethewasleadingthemonagreatexpeditionwhere,forallsheknew,theywouldbedrowned.

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