“Load her then,” said the captain, chuckling, “and don’t go on setting a mutinous example to the men. Squire Brace looks quite startled.”
The mate smiled grimly and went below, to return with a couple of little flannel bags and crawl with them to where the little signal cannon was lashed to the deck.
Brace followed, preferring to assist in the preparation of this experiment to firing in the direction of naked savages.
“Here, I shall be having all the skin rubbed off my knees,” said the mate, nodding at Brace. “Nature never meant me to go along like a four-footed beast.”
“It is awkward,” said Brace, smiling.
“Awkward isn’t the word for it,” grumbled the mate. “Got your knife handy?”
Brace nodded, and drew it from his pocket, and the mate slit open one of the bags so as to pour about half its contents into the mouth of the little cannon.
“It’s all very fine of the skipper to talk,” he said, placing the whole cartridge now in its place, “but I’m very fond of the first mate of the ‘Jason’ brig, and I should be sorry to do him any mischief. I should look well, I should, if I had to go back home as a ghost to tell my wife all my bits had been eaten by the savage fish in this river. I know her ideas well, and she wouldn’t like it, I can tell you. There you are; down it goes,” he continued, taking the little rammer from where it was strapped to the carriage and driving the bag home on to the top of the loose charge. “Is the powder up, sir?”
“Yes,” said Brace; “the touch-hole’s full.”
“That’s right, then. Avast there; be smart with that red-hot poker.”