“It just was,” said the carpenter, coming up. “I know somebody, gentlemen, who thinks as he had a very narrow squeak of being took down to the bottom with that bit o’ steel and kept there. But that would ha’ been better than floating up again to be pulled to pieces by the sharks. I don’t suppose that they stops much about the bottom o’ the sea; they generally seem to be too busy up at top, drying their back-fins in the open air. Trying your little bit o’ performance over again, gentlemen?”
“Yes, Chips,” said Fitz, as the man stood smiling at him. “It was a horrible night’s work.”
“Well, no, sir, not horrid. We came out to do something and we did it fine. The on’y awkward bit on it is the risk you ran a-popping that there breech-block on somebody’s head, for which miss he’s very much obliged—very much indeed. But I came to see if you gents wouldn’t like to come down below with us to sound the well, for I expect there’s a precious lot o’ water there, and a big hole to let it in. Mr Burgess have gone down with Butters.”
The two lads hurriedly followed the carpenter below, to encounter the mate and boatswain fresh from their task.
“Deal more water than I like to see, my lads,” said the boatswain, “but we shall know better where we stand after that steam-pump has been going for a couple of hours.”
“Job for that engineer and his fireman,” said the carpenter coolly; and very soon after the panting of the donkey-engine, the rattle of the pump, and the vigorous splashing down of clear water betokened the relieving of the gunboat’s lower parts of some portion of their burden, as Poole said, but only to be met by a damping remark from Fitz.
“Not much good,” he said, “if the water runs in as fast as it runs out.”
As time could be the only test for this, the little party of examiners descended now into one of the schooner’s boats, the carpenter standing up in her bows and passing her along to make fast by one of the ringbolts of the stern-post, and giving the two lads a peculiar look as he proceeded to examine the propeller.
“Well, how does it seem?” said the mate.
“Seem, Mr Burgess, sir?” said the carpenter dryly, “don’t seem at all, sir. There’s nothing here but the biggest ball o’ string I ever see. Would you mind coming forard, Mr Butters, sir, and seeing what you can make of it?”