“Ah, it’s all very fine, gentlemen, you are on the right side. You aren’t got it to do. I have, and if I was to try and laugh now it would be on the other side of my mouth.”
“Get out,” said Poole, “you’ll do it right enough. Won’t he, Fitz?”
“Of course.”
“Think so, gentlemen?”
“To be sure we do,” cried Fitz. “You’ll do it, Chips. Go in and win.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the man, rather sadly. “I did say I’d do it, didn’t I?”
“To be sure you did.”
“Well then, of course I must try.”
“To be sure you must,” cried Fitz. “Why, you’ll be able to do it in broad daylight with nobody to interrupt you.”
“So I shall, Mr Burnett, sir. It won’t be like swarming up her side in the dark, expecting a couple of dozen of them half-bred niggers to come at you with their long knives ready to pitch you overboard. Here: I am glad you talked. I was getting all in the downs like over that job, when it aren’t half so ’ard as for a young gent like you to swarm up that anker, that very one yonder as is hanging from the cat-head now, and then taking out that breech-block and—”