Chapter Twenty Four.
That was a busy day on the rock, which was in places so hot to their bare feet that the men laughed as they stepped gingerly about.
“I say, mate,” said one of them in the intervals of hauling up a case, and just as he had noted that Syd was close by, “d’yer know what’s for dinner to-day?”
“Ay, lad; cold junk and biscuit.”
“Better than that, messmate; on’y it wants the young gen’leman to set to work and ketch some shrimps for sarce.”
“What d’yer mean, lad?”
“Fried soles, lad, fried soles,” said the other. “Mine’s ’most done brown.”
Syd was not supposed to be on duty, but he was so much interested in the whole affair that he was as busy as any one, and it was while he was high up on the rock, looking on at the rigging up of a couple of spars, crane-fashion, for hoisting the stores, that he came across the lieutenant, who gave him a peculiar look and a smile, and then went on giving a few orders before going higher to re-inspect the chasm, prior to getting the stores and light things in there.
“Couldn’t see yer, Master Syd,” whispered the boatswain. “’Stonishing how invisible young gents is sometimes.”