“Will you two men be quiet?” said Oliver in a sharp whisper. “Do you want to betray our whereabouts to the enemy?”
“It aren’t me, sir, it’s Tommy Smith keeps a-haggrywating like.”
“I aren’t, sir! it’s Billy Wriggs a-going on about that ladder as he’s got to carry.”
“Well, it is a nuisance to be carrying a thing like that about all night. Lay it down, man. I daresay we can find it again in the morning. Now follow us on quietly.”
Oliver joined his companions, and the two sailors were left a little way behind.
“Now, then! d’yer hear?” whispered Smith. “He telled yer to chuck that there ladder down.”
“I don’t care what he telled me, Tommy. He aren’t my orficer. I was to carry that there ladder, and I’m a-goin’ to carry that there ladder till my watch is up.”
“Yah! yer orbsnit wooden-headed old chock.”
“Dessay I am, Tommy, but dooty’s dooty, and ship’s stores is ship’s stores. I’ve got to do my dooty, and I aren’t going to chuck away the ship’s stores. That sort o’ thing may do for natralists, but it don’t come nat’ral to a sailor.”
“You won’t be better till you’ve had a snooze, Billy. Your temper’s downright nasty, my lad. I say, what’s that?”