"High 'nough!"
The rush stopped like one man. Another pull on the after-fall—enough. She was hoisted. "Walk back! ... Lie to!"
A tense silence fell upon the crowded battery: the only sound that of men breathing hard. A limp figure was seen descending the Jacob's ladder out of the boat, assisted by two of the crew. Heady hands were outstretched to help, and the next moment Willie Sparling, Ordinary Seaman, Official Number 13728, was once more on the deck of a man-of-war—a place he never expected to see again.
"Ow!" He winced, "Min' my shoulder—it's 'urted...." He looked round at the familiar faces lit by the electric lights, and jerked his head back at the boat hanging from her davits. "'E saved my life—look after 'im. 'E's a ... e's a—bleedin' 'ero, ..." and Willie Sparling, with a broken collar-bone, collapsed dramatically enough.
The Engineer Lieutenant swung himself down on to the upper deck and stooped to wring the water from his trousers. The Surgeon seized him by the arm—-
"Come along, Shortie—in between the blankets with you!"
The hero of the moment disengaged his arm and shook himself like a terrier. "Blankets be blowed—it's my Middle Watch."
The Surgeon laughed. "Plenty of time for that: it's only just after half-past nine. What about a hot toddy?"
"Lord! I thought I'd been in the water for hours.... Yes, by Jove! a hot toddy——" He paused and looked round, his face suddenly anxious. "By the way, ... 'any one seen a pipe sculling about...?"
Down below the telegraph gongs clanged, and the ship's bows swung round on to her course, heading once more for England, Home, and Beauty.