“Who’s here?—Who’s hurt?”
There was no reply for a few moments, and then from somewhere up-stairs as it seemed to Murray, Roberts shouted—
“Do speak, somebody! Are you all killed?”
“No, no,” panted Murray, who now began to cough and choke. “Speak, somebody! Who’s hurt?”
“Here, avast there!” now burst forth the hearty tones of the big sailor. “Let’s have it, messmates, only don’t all speak at once. Arn’t all on you killed, are you?”
“No, no,” cried one.
“Knocked the wind out of us,” said another, from the upper room.
“Here, steady there,” cried Tom May now, in a voice full of excitement. “Avast there, what did you do with the rest of that there keg of powder?”
“Me?” cried Harry Lang, who had handled it. “You, yes! What did you do with it, messmate?”
“Took it up-stairs. I mean, brought it up here.”