“Hush! The enemy are close at hand,” whispered Murray, in a low suppressed voice.
“Who’s yon?” whispered another voice. “Look out, sir.”
“Here, Tom, what does this mean?” said Murray excitedly.
“Means it ought to be my messmate, Billy Titely sir, only he’s got winged, sir, and gone right on ahead.”
“Nay, he arn’t, Tom, lad, ’cause he’s here,” came in the familiar tones. “Say, Mr Roberts, sir, is that there Tom May talking, or has my wound made me a bit dillylerous. I wish you’d just say.”
“Is Dick Roberts there?” whispered Murray excitedly.
“I should say he was, sir, only I keep on going off giddy like.”
“But you ought to be right on ahead of Mr Anderson and the men,” cried Murray.
“There, I telled you, sir, Mr Roberts, sir,” said Titely. “I could feel like as we was somehow got into the wrong watch, and I did say so, sir.”
“Oh, bother!” cried Roberts. “It was so dark, and my head was all of a swim. Well, never mind; let’s get into our right place again. Where is it?”