“Oh no, sir; it’s as bad as ever,” I cried.
“Nonsense, my lad; not half. The mist is not so dense overhead, and the hissing and shrieking of the steam is nothing like so loud. We can talk to one another without shouting.”
“I say,” squeaked Mr Preddle from the other side, “it isn’t so thick, is it?”
“No,” cried the doctor; and just then Mr Brymer came near, and, to my surprise, I could see him dimly on the other side of the gap in the deck.
“Three cheers!” he shouted; “the day’s our own. In an hour or two we shall be able to cry hold hard!”
Those three cheers were given—cheers as full of thankfulness as they were of joy at our prospect of final success. Mr Brymer came round to me, and laid his hand upon my shoulder.
“Let Blane take the branch now,” he said. “Why, Dale, my lad, you couldn’t have stood to your water-gun better if you had been a man.”
And I felt a burning flash of pride in my cheeks, and that it was time to leave off, for my arms ached so that I could hardly direct the branch.