Part 74 (1/2)

”And about my job,” said Poole. ”I am afraid the screw's not fouled, for I fancy the gunboat is slowly steaming out to sea.”

”Well, I don't see as how we can tell that, Mr Poole, sir,” said the boatswain. ”I can't say as she's moving, for we are both in a sharp current, and she may be only drifting; but seeing the way as you made fast the end of that there cable, and then looped over bight after bight round them there fans, and twistened it all up tight, it seems to me that the screw must be fouled, and that every turn made it wuss and wuss. I say that you made a fine job of that there, Mr Poole. What do you say, Chips, my lad?”

”Splendid!” cried the carpenter.

”Why, it was you two did it,” said Fitz.

”Well, that's what I thought, sir,” said the carpenter; ”but it was so dark, I couldn't see a bit.”

”Zackly,” said the boatswain; ”and you said it was your job, sir.”

”Oh, nonsense!” cried Poole. ”I meant yours.”

”Well,” said Fitz, ”all I can say is that I hope your knots were good.”

”I'll answer for mine,” said the boatswain, ”but I won't say nothing for Chips here. He aren't much account unless it's hammers and spikes, or a job at caulking or using his adze.”

”That's right,” said Chips, ”but you might tell the young gents that I'm handiest with a pot o' glue.”

There was silence for a few moments, and then Fitz said--

”It's almost too much to expect that both things have turned out all right; but I can't help believing they have.”

”Well, sir,” said the boatswain, ”I do hope as that there cable is not all twisted up in a bunch about them fans--reg'lar wound up tight--and if it is there's no knowing where that there gunboat will drift during the night; for I don't care how big a crew they've got aboard, they can't free that there propeller till daylight, if they do then. But it do seem a pity to spoil a beautiful new soft bit of stuff like that, for it'll never be no good again.”

”Fine tackle for caulking,” said the carpenter, ”or making s.h.i.+ps'

fenders.”

”Yah!” cried the boatswain. ”We should never get it again. It's gone, and it give me quite a heartache to use up new s.h.i.+p's stores like that.

But what I was going to say was, that the skipper will be saddersfied enough when we get back and tell him that Mr Burnett's crippled the big gun.”

”Oh, but that was the easy job,” said Fitz. ”It was just play, lifting out that block and dropping it overboard.”

”And a very pretty game too, Mr Burnett, sir,” said the boatswain, chuckling. ”But I say, seems quite to freshen a man up to be able to open his mouth and speak. While you two young gents was swarming up that anchor, and all the time you was aboard till you come back plish, plosh, I felt as if I couldn't breathe. I say, Mr Poole, would you like to take these 'ere lines?”

”No,” said Poole shortly; ”I want to get dry. But why do you want me to take the lines?”

”To get shut of the 'sponsibility, sir. I can't see which way to steer.”

”Oh, never mind the steering,” cried Fitz. ”Just keep her head to the swell, and let's all rest, my lads. I feel so done up that I could go to sleep. We can't do anything till daylight. Here, I say, Camel, did you bring anything to eat?”

”The orders were to bring the rations stowed inside, sir,” replied the cook; ”but a'm thenking I did slip a wee bit something into the locker for'ard there, juist ahind where ye are sitting, sir. Would you mind feeling? Hech! I never thought of that!”

”Thought of what?” said Fitz.

”Ye've got the s.h.i.+p's carpenter there, and he's got a nose like a cat for feesh. Awm skeart that he smelt it oot in the dairk and it's all gone.”

”Haw, haw!” chuckled the carpenter. ”You are wrong this time, Andy. I got my smelling tackle all choked up with the stuff the bearings of that gunboat's fan was oiled with--nasty rank stuff like Scotch oil. I don't believe I shall smell anything else for a week.”

_Rap_! went the lid of the little locker.