“I’ll make you laugh on the other side of your face directly.”
“No don’t—pray don’t,” sighed Murray; “for the skin there’s stiffer, and I’m sure it will crack.”
“You’re cracked already.”
“I think we must all have been, to get ourselves in such a mess, old fellow. But it was very brave, I suppose, and I don’t believe any one but English sailors would have done what we did.”
“Pooh! Any fools could have started those fires.”
“Perhaps so. But what’s the matter now?” For Roberts had raised his face from the water he was beginning to use, with an angry hiss.
“Try and bathe your face, and you’ll soon know.”
“Feel as if the skin was coming off? Well, we can’t help it. Must get rid of the black. The skin will grow again. But I’m thinking of one’s uniform. My jacket’s like so much tinder.”
A wash, a change, and a visit to the doctor ended with the sufferers being in comparative comfort, and the two lads stood and looked at each other.
“Hasn’t improved our appearance, Dick,” said Murray.