mate,”
returned
Ben, “not
you.
You’re a
good boy,
or I’m
mistook;
but you’re
on’y a
boy, all
told. Now,
Ben Gunn
is fly.
Rum
wouldn’t
bring me
there,
where
you’re
going –
not rum
wouldn’t,
till I see
your born
gen’leman
and gets
it on his
word of
honour.
And you
won’t
forget my
words; ‘A
precious
sight
(that’s
what
you’ll
say), a
precious
sight more
confidence’
– and then
nips him.”
And he
pinched me
the third
time with
the same
