“Thank goodness, Reardon,” I heard the captain say; and directly after, as I was passing, Tom Jecks’ voice was heard in the midst of a group of the Jacks.
“Say, messmate,” he said, “fancy, stripped and fists only, how many Chinese could you polish off?”
“Dunno,” said a voice, which I knew to be that of Billy Wakes, a big manly-looking young Plymouth fellow. “’Course I could do one, and I think I could doctor two on ’em; I’d have a try at three; and I’m blest if I’d run away from four. That is about as fair as I can put it, messmate.”
I was helping Barkins to the companion-way, and Smith was walking very slowly by us. But as we heard this we stopped to laugh, just as Mr Brooke came up and asked what amused us. We told him, and he laughed too.
“That means one of our fellows would try at four Chinamen. He’s too modest. Four to one, lads! why, if it came to real righting, ten of them would follow me against a hundred of the enemy. Ten to one.—News for you.”
“News, sir; what?” I said.
“We sail again directly. There is another gang at work south, and we have a hint of the whereabouts of their nest.”