There were two more of Neptune's young children who wanted seeing to. Having done so, Grant went aloft again.
Then Creggan went to his quarters.
"Come along, sir," cried one of three bold middies who sat around the gun-room table when Creggan drew back the curtain; "come along, and have a hand at whist."
"Thank you, messmates, but I must feed first."
"Steward!"
"Ay ay, sorr," said an unmistakably Irish voice. "That's me, myself, sorr;" and a tallish, smart fellow, with black buttons on his short jacket, and a blue ground to his beardless face, entered the mess.
"Bring in the beef, and all kinds of fixings."
"Any dhrink, sorr?"
"No drink, thanks. What's your name?"
"M'Carthy, sorr, sure enough."