The Young Doctor came over to his side. "What are you up to, Pay?"
The other smiled in all the pride of authorship. "I don't know what you think, but I call that rather a neat bit of wit, eh?"
The notice read as follows:
"GRAND QUOITS COMPETITION."
"Subject to interference by atmospherics, barratry, mines, fog, lyddite shell bursting on board, and the King's enemies, it is proposed to hold the above in the dog watch whenever possible:
"First Prize—A good cigar.
"Second Prize—A blood orange.
"Third Prize—A bag of nuts.
"Penalty for throwing a quoit overboard:
"First Offence—Fined half a crown.
"Second Offence—Thrown overboard himself.
"And what'll he do the third time?" inquired the Surgeon, who was suspected of being Irish. "But anyway, it's a grand idea—let's go and play before the light gets too bad."
The Paymaster stepped into his cabin and returned with half a dozen discs of indiarubber. "I wheedled these out of the 'Chief.' Padre, come on and play quoits—you and I'll take on 'Pills' and the Gunnery Lieutenant."
"Never played in my life. I should probably chuck them down the funnel or hit the Skipper in the eye on the fore-bridge."