“Well, what is there rum, as you call it, in that?”
“Nowt, sir, only the reason why. I can hear sharp as sharp, sir, because I was always getting my ears boxed when I was a boy. I was sent to what they call a Dame school, and I s’pose I was a very tiresome boy, for she used to box my ears—both on ’em—with the book. Then when I got bigger and I was at the school where there was a master he used to give it my ears precious hot, I can tell you, sir; but it made ’em as sharp as sharp, and I used to be so quick with ’em that I could hear his hands coming when he was going to hit me; and then he used to miss, and instead of hitting ’em he used to warm my ears with words.”
“Then you can’t hear the enemy following us, Tom?” whispered the middy.
The man stopped short and dropped upon one knee to listen.
“N-n-n-Yes, I can, sir,” whispered the man quickly. “Come on, sir; the sailors, they’re not far behind. Gently; I don’t think they can hear us then. Let’s get up to the first luff and see what he says about giving them another shot or two.”
“Yes, press on. We’ve let them get too far ahead,” said Murray hastily. “We ought to have kept close up.”
“Would ha’ been better for some things, sir; but you can’t keep close up when you’re in the rear and hear the enemy too. Wish the first luff would let us have that nigger chap with us. He can feel his way in the dark when it’s black as black.”
“But he can’t be spared. Can you tell how near the enemy are?”
“No, sir. Can’t hear ’em now. Let’s ketch up to our chaps, and then as soon as we’re within touch with ’em we’ll stop again and listen.”
“Halt there, or we fire!” said a voice sharply, out of the black darkness in front.