Leaving the ranks, Seaman Henshaw stepped briskly forward, saluting respectfully.
“Henshaw, do you think you could play a loud tune on this gong?”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“How long do you think you could keep that tune going?”
“An hour, anyway, sir.”
“Can you play that gong like a bass-drum?”
“Like a whole drum-corps, sir,” answered Seaman Henshaw, with just the suspicion of a grin.
“Then fall to, Henshaw.”
Picking up the fancifully carved stick, Seaman Henshaw faced the three-foot gong.
Bang! crash! zim! zoum! smash! It was a lusty tattoo that Seaman Henshaw beat upon that resounding metal. The noise could have been heard a mile away. Dave afterwards learned that every sound was distinctly heard on board the gunboat.