“Thanky, sir,” chorussed the men, and pipes were quickly produced by all save Dick, who helped himself to a fresh quid.
“I say, sentry,” cried Bob, “pass the word on there—I want to see Mr Long.”
“Yes, sir,” was the reply, and the white-coated sentry walked to the end of his beat, and made a sign to the next sentry, who came to the end of his beat, heard what was wanted, and passed the message on, so that at the end of a few minutes Ensign Long came slowly down to the landing-place, with an umbrella held up to keep off the sun, and found the boat’s crew smoking, and Bob Roberts, with his cap tilted over his eyes, sitting in the bottom of the gig, with his legs over the side, so exactly arranged that the water rippled round the soles of his shoes, and pleasantly cooled his feet.
“Did you wish to speak to me, Mr Roberts?” said Long, stiffly.
“Hallo, Tom, old man! Here, jump in! I’ve got some news for you.”
Ensign Long looked very stand-offish; but the eager face of Bob, the only one about his own age of whom he could make a companion, was too much for him; and as Bob got up and made a place for him, Mr Ensign Long unbent a little, and really as well as metaphorically undid a button or two, and got into the captain’s gig.
“I say, look here, Tom, old man, what’s the use of us two always falling out, when we could be so jolly together?” said Bob.
“I don’t quite understand you,” said Tom Long, stiffly. “I am not of a quarrelsome disposition, as any of my brother officers will tell you.”
“Then it must be me then who is such a quarrelsome beast, and there’s my hand, and we won’t fall out any more.”
Ensign Long undid a few more buttons, for it was very hot, and condescended to shake hands.