But never mind Joe Daygo, Vince.

It's getting darker, and the old Crag is seeming to die away.
Oh, Cinder, old chap, is it all true?
Are we being taken away like this ?" Vince could not trust himself to speak, but leaned over the bulwark, resting his chin upon his thumbs, and shading the sides of his face-- partly to conceal its workings, which was not necessary in the darkness, partly to shut off the side-light and see the island more easily.
And neither was this necessary, for there were no sidelights, and the Crag was now so dim that had he not known it was there it would have been invisible; but he preserved it all mentally, and thought of the pleasant home, with the saddened faces there, of the happy days he had spent, and now for the first time fully realised what a joyous boyhood he had passed in the rocky wildly picturesque old place, with no greater trouble to disturb his peaceful life than some puzzling problem or a trivial fit of illness.

All so bright, so joyous, so happy,--and now gone, perhaps, for ever; and some strange, wild life to come, but what kind of existence he could not grasp.
Naturally enough, Mike's thoughts ran in the same channel, but he gave them utterance; and Vince, as he stood there, heard him saying piteously,-- "Good-bye, dear old home! I never knew before what you really were.
Good-bye--good-bye!" And then, passionately--"Oh, Vince, Vince! what have we done to deserve all this?
Where are we going now ?" "To bed, _mes amis_," said the captain, slapping them both on the shoulders and rudely interrupting their thoughts.

"Come: I take you myself.

Not over ze powdaire now.