“Come, come,” said the lieutenant, wiping his eyes and trying to look very important and stern, “that’s not the right way, my man. Try again.”
Dick rose unwillingly, planted the upturned bucket once more in its place, and took the milking bucket from one of the men who had picked it up. Then, sitting down again rather nervously, he once more placed the vessel between his legs, stuck his head against the cow’s side, and prepared to milk.
Whack!
The bucket flew along the deck again, and Dick bounded away, saving himself from falling this time as he was prepared, and made a sudden leap backwards to stand wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
There was another roar of laughter, and the lieutenant bade Dick try again.
The man gave his officer an appealing look which seemed to say, “Tell me to board the enemy, sir, and I’ll go, but don’t ask me to do this.”
“Come; be smart!”
Dick turned, glanced wistfully at Archy, shaking his head at him reproachfully, sighed, and, taking the bucket again, he looked into it with his rugged brown face full of despair.
“It’s quite empty, Dick,” said the middy, laughing.
“Yes, sir; there’s nowt in it, and,” he added to himself, “not like to be.”