“Thankye, sir,” cried Bob; and he stepped toward the hatch, where, as Mr Russell turned away, he found Tom Fillot looking at him with his face puckering up into a broad grin.
Meanwhile Bob had reached the hatch and bent over it prior to stepping down, but instead of raising his foot for that step, he started back, his hand to his face, and a look of the most intense horror and disgust overspreading his merry countenance.
“Oh!” he ejaculated; and then again, “Oh!”
“What is the matter, Mr Howlett?” said the lieutenant, quietly.
“Oh, just you go there, sir. ’Pon my word! it’s just awful.”
“Ah, yes, I know,” said the lieutenant, quietly. “The hold is bad with the poor creatures being shut up there. That is why I want to get them on deck;” and he walked to the hatch.
“You beggars! I’ll serve some of you out for this,” said Bob to himself, as he saw several of the men grinning hugely at his discomfort.
He turned away and found himself face to face with Tom Fillot, who looked at him with a preternaturally solemn aspect.
“Find it a bit strong, sir?”
“What?” cried Bob, haughtily.