“Eh, what? sharks? No sharks here, are there?”
“Harbour swarms with them.”
“Gammon!”
“Ask any of the men who have been here before, then,” said Roylance.
“But, really, Roy? No gammon!”
“It’s a fact, I tell you. Try it, if you doubt me.”
“N–no,” said Jenkins, coolly; “you see one would have to swim in one’s uniform, and get ashore so wet.”
“Naturally,” said Roylance, laughing.
“No,” said Jenkins, “I wouldn’t swim ashore naturally. Looks so bad. I’ll stop aboard.”
“Hullo, Bolton; what’s the matter?” cried another of the middies. “Asked leave?”