disconsolate.
“Did you make his boat fast?”
“She’s fast enough till the tide runs back. I couldn’t make her faster than she is. Come aboard of mine, and see for your own-selves.”
There was a little backwardness in complying, for the freight looked too much for the boat; but on Riderhood’s protesting “that he had had half a dozen, dead and alive, in her afore now, and she was nothing deep in the water nor down in the stern even then, to speak of;” they carefully took their places, and trimmed the crazy thing. While they were doing so, Riderhood still sat staring disconsolate.
“All right. Give way!” said Lightwood.
“Give way, by George!” repeated Riderhood, before shoving off. “If he’s gone and made off anyhow Lawyer Lightwood, it’s enough to make me give way in a different manner. But he always was a cheat, con‑found him! He always was a infernal cheat, was Gaffer. Nothing straightfor’ard, nothing on the square. So mean, so underhanded. Never going through with a thing, nor carrying it out like a man!”
“Hallo! Steady!” cried Eugene (he had recovered immediately on embarking), as they bumped heavily against a pile; and then in a lower voice reversed his late apostrophe by remarking (“I wish the boat of my honourable and gallant friend may be endowed with philanthropy enough not to turn bottom-upward and extinguish us!) Steady, steady! Sit close, Mortimer. Here’s the hail again. See how it flies, like a troop of wild cats, at Mr. Riderhood’s eyes!”
Indeed he had the full benefit of it, and it so mauled him, though he bent his head low and tried to present nothing but the mangy cap to it, that he dropped under the lee of a tier of shipping, and they lay there