“Nay, sir, I arn’t had nothing to touch lately. I s’pose I’ve turned stoopid through coming upon them two so sudden. But just you start me, sir, and then I shall go on as steady and reg’lar as can be.”
“Tom!” groaned Murray.
“Ay, ay, sir! Which way?”
Murray uttered a gasp as he stood trying to pierce the darkness, turning slowly in different directions the while.
“Ready, sir,” said the sailor. “I’ve got hold of Bill Titely, sir, quite tightly too,” added the man, with a low chuckle.
Titely groaned aloud.
“Steady, sir!” whispered the man. “That was a regular pig’s whisper, and no mistake.—Quiet, you lubber!” he added, giving his messmate a shake. “Don’t bully him, sir; his wound’s made him a bit silly like, and he don’t quite know what he’s about, or he wouldn’t howl aloud like that.”
“Here, stop that,” came from out of the darkness. “Who is it—you, Frank? Don’t play the fool with a fellow. It makes me so jolly giddy, and it hurts.”
“I’m not doing anything, Dick,” whispered Murray. “Oh, do be quiet, old chap! Can’t you understand that your wound has made you turn weak, and that the enemy are somewhere close at hand?”
“No! It all goes round and round and round. Stop it, will you?”