“Well, it is, my man,” said Murray. “The first lieutenant didn’t mean me to get my men burned as well.”
“Skeercely, sir,” said one of the men. “I don’t know how my messmates are, but I feel as if I was a bacon pig after killing time, and the singeing’s done.”
“Forward, then, and keep close, my lads. I think it looks lighter ahead there. Keep together.”
The midshipman started forward through the blinding smoke, panting and gasping, while at every step the hot ashes emitted sparks and the heat became more intense. But at the end of a score of painful paces a strong hand gripped him by the arm and a hoarse voice growled—
“Beg pardon, sir, but this here won’t do.”
“Right, May,” cried the midshipman. “I was just going to say so. Halt, my lads. Here, right wheel!”
Tramp, tramp, tramp, with the smoke and sparks rising; and the big sailor growled again in protest.
“Wuss and wuss, sir.”
“Yes.—Let’s try this way, my lads.”
“This here’s wusser still, your honour,” growled another of the men.