“That’s your sort, sir. A sailor allers stands by his messmate; but they are a pair of okkard ones just now, just at a time when it’s dark as the bottom of a pitch kettle full right up to the very top. But do say something, Mr Murray, sir.”
“Say, Tom! I’ve got nothing to say.”
“I know some one who will have, sir, when we come acrorst him, and that’s Mr Anderson, sir.” Murray groaned.
“I think I shall get behind you, sir,” said the big sailor, with a chuckle, “so as he can take the sharp edge off his tongue on you first.”
“Tom May!” whispered the midshipman bitterly. “How can you laugh at a time like this!”
“I dunno, sir, but I don’t mean nothing disrespectful to my officer, sir. I thought a bit of a joke would cheer us up a bit. But it arn’t nat’ral like, for I feel as if I could lay my cocoanut up again’ a tree and howl like a sick dog as has got his fore foot under a wheel. But it is a muddle, sir, arn’t it? What shall we do?”
“I can only think one thing, Tom, and it is horrible. It seems like giving up in despair.”
“Never mind, sir: let’s have it, for I want to be doing something.”
“I can think of nothing but waiting till daylight.”
“Can’t you, sir? Well, I thought that, but it seemed to me too stoopid. But I don’t know as there isn’t some good in it, for we might get them two to lie still and sleep, and that’s about all they’re fit for. It’s orful dark, but that don’t matter for the sick bay, and when they wake up again in the morning, perhaps they won’t talk silly. You’re right, sir; let’s put our wounded to bed, and then divide the rest of the night into two watches. I’ll take the first, and you take the second watch, which will carry us well on till daylight. What do you say to that, sir?”