“Yes,” said the other sailor; “but I wants to know this: if we two’s got our necks in the nooses, why arn’t Bob Hampton and Neb Dumlow?”
“’Cause we never shoved ’em in, my lad,” said Bob Hampton, with a chuckle. “It was all a paddy till we could get the genle-men out to make a fight on it. That’s so, arn’t it, gents?”
“Yes, my lads, Hampton, Dumlow, and Blane have been fighting for us all through.”
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said the man. “Very well. Anything for a quiet life, I says; on’y how much longer are we to be at the wheel?”
“I’ll have you relieved soon, my men, so do your best, and keep easing her off another point or two now and then.”
“Ay; don’t keep running her nose into all the big waves, mateys,” cried Hampton; and then to Mr Frewen—“You won’t have to shoot ’em this time, sir. They arn’t a bad sort. It was all that Frenchy.”
“Come to the saloon now,” said Mr Frewen, and we all hurried down into the black place, and to the door of the cabin, through which we could hear a growling sound.
By this time Bob Hampton had been made fully aware of the strange state of affairs, and was indulging in several hearty chuckles at his messmate’s expense. And now as I began to unfasten the door, he said quickly—
“I’d be a bit on my guard, gentlemen, for Barney ’ll be a bit nasty at all this here, and p’r’aps show fight, and when he do he hits hard. Did you tie him werry fast?”
“As fast as we could,” said Mr Brymer, and I threw open the door.