“I say, sir—I say,” continued the lieutenant, pushing up his bandage a little, “that such conduct is disgraceful, sir; and what is more, I say—”
The lieutenant did not finish the sentence then, for in him angry excitement he had continued his blind walk, extending it more and more till he had approached close to where the carpenter had sawn out several of the ragged planks torn by the previous night’s explosion, and as he lifted his leg for another step it was right over the yawning opening into the men’s quarters in the forecastle below.
Chapter Nine.
Blind Proceedings.
It would have been an ugly fall for the lieutenant, for according to the wholesome custom observed by most mechanics, the carpenter had turned the damaged hatchway into a very pleasant kind of pitfall, such as the gentle mild Hindoo might have dug for his enemy the crafty tiger, with its arrangements for impaling whatever fell.
In this case Chips had all the ragged and jagged pieces of plank carefully stuck point upwards, with a couple of augers, a chisel or two, and a fair amount of gimlets and iron spike-like nails, so that it would have been impossible for his officer have fallen without receiving one or two ugly wounds.
Just in the nick of time, however, Jack Brown, the boatswain, darted forward and gave the lieutenant a tremendous push, which sent him clear of the opening in the deck, but in a sitting position under the bulwark, against which his head went with a goodly rap.
“Mutiny, by Jove!” he roared, in astonished fury. “Marines, fix bayonets! Run that scoundrel through.”