But I was obliged to say something, and I shouted first one order and then another.
“That’s your sort, lads,” cried a cheery voice. “Down with ’em, and I’ll stow. It’s like bricklaying with big bricks.”
“Who’s that?” I said sharply, for the man’s back was towards me, and it was getting quite dark where we were.
“Me it is, sir—Bob Saunders, sir. Beg pardon, sir.”
“Yes; what is it?”
“Tide’s going down very fast, sir, arn’t it?”
“Yes; why?”
“’Cause we don’t seem to get no forrarder. Hi! steady there! D’yer want to bury yer orficer?”
“Never mind me, man. Stow away; she must soon be lightened enough to make her float.”
“Then we’ll lighten her, sir; but don’t you go and give orders for any of the stuff to be chucked overboard. It’s too vallerble for that.”