“Yes, sir,” said the man, grinning; “but I gammoned him a bit.”
“You cheated the doctor, sir!” said Roberts sternly.
“Well, sir, I didn’t mean no harm,” said the man, puckering up his face a little and wincing—“I only put it to him like this: said I should only fret if I went on the sick list, and lie there chewing more than was good for me.”
“Well, and what did he say?”
“Told me I was a himpident scoundrel, sir, and that I was to go and see him every morning, and keep my left arm easy and not try to haul.”
In fact, singeing, some ugly blisters, a certain number of hands that were bound up by the doctor, and a few orders as to their use—orders which proved to be forgotten at once—and a certain awkwardness of gait set down to the stiffness of the newly issued garments—those were all that were noticeable at the first glance round by the midshipmen, and apparently the whole crew were ready and fit to help in the efforts being made to get the sloop out of her unpleasant position in the mud of the giant river.
As for the men themselves, they were in the highest of spirits, and worked away hauling at cables and hoisting sail to such an extent that when the night wind came sweeping along the lower reaches of the river, the sloop careened over till it seemed as if she would dip her canvas in the swiftly flowing tide, but recovered almost to float upon an even keel. Twice more she lay over again, and then a hearty cheer rang out, for she rose after the last careen and then began to glide slowly out into deeper water, just as the captain gave orders for one of the bow guns to be fired.
“Why was that?” said Murray, who had been busy at his duties right aft. “Didn’t you see?”
“No. Not to cheer up the men because we were out of the mud?”
“Tchah! No. The niggers were beginning to collect again ashore there by that patch of unburned forest.”