“Down with you!” roared Mr Brymer, as the hatch flew up, and there was a flash and report, which the man waited for, and then leaped.
“Down with you!” cried Mr Brymer again, but the other two men hesitated, and were hanging back. The next moment they went down headlong, impelled as they were by Bob Hampton and Dumlow.
“There,” cried Bob Hampton, as we all stood there breathless with excitement, and quite forgetful of the storm raging round us, “if anybody had told me, Neb, as Barney would have been such a cur, I’d ha’ hit him in the mouth for a liar.”
“Yah!” growled Dumlow, “and I’ve shook hands with him and called him ‘mate’ scores o’ times. Yah!”
“Never mind, gents, we’ve done it, eh?” cried Bob Hampton.
“God bless you both for true men!” cried Mr Brymer, holding out his hands to them, and for a few minutes there was a general hand-shaking all round.
“But we’re forgetting the men at the wheel,” said Mr Frewen. “How many are there? Two?”
“Oh, they’re a couple o’ soft Tommy sort of chaps,” said Bob Hampton. “I can settle them two with one hand. That arn’t the worst on it, sir; we’ve got to tackle Barney Blane. No, I won’t do it for fear I should finish him, and you’d best steer out o’ that job, Neb.”
“If I don’t, I shall sarve him like a wornut, mate.”
“Dessay you would, my lad. We’ll sponge over the two lads at the wheel while the gents does Barney. Hit him, gents, or shoot him somewhere low down, for he desarves it; all I wonder now is as he did not split all about it to old Frenchy.”