“Yes, sir; but by a bit o’ giving and taking I got round, and come out face forrard, as you see.”
“I am thankful,” I murmured.
“Well, if you come to that, sir, I liked it better when I’d got face outwards; for it arn’t nice to feel yourself set fast in among a lot o’ cargo which may shift if the ship gives a roll, and there you are, just like a blue-bottle shut in a big book, and come out next year flat and dry.”
“Why, you must be a thin ’un, Barney,” growled Bob. “You’d better leave the sea, and take to being first-class messenger to go up and down steam-pipes.”
“Be quiet, Bob!” I said angrily. “Here, tell me, Barney,” I continued; for now that the man was safe, the horror and nervousness of a terrible accident rapidly passed away.
“Tell you what, sir?”
“Is it hopeless? Is there no chance of getting to the forecastle bulk-head that way?”
“Well, sir, I can’t say only that you know how far Neb Dumlow got, and then how Bob Hampton got a little farther.”
“Didn’t,” growled Dumlow.
“Now what’s the good o’ you talking, messmate? because he did, just a bit farther,” said Barney, in a tone full of protest. “You may just as well say I didn’t go three times as far.”