He left her, and proceeded to help the man who was dragging the urchins to their feet.
“Get up!” commanded the sergeant. “Get up, and fall in. Dress from the left, and number off, the ones who can stand.”
It appeared that the lads had been drilled, for they scrambled into a line that bent and wavered each time the Scarrowmania’s bows went down. After that, every other lad stepped forward at the word. The order was, “Left turn. March, and fall in on deck,” and when they feebly clambered up the ladder Wyllard, who turned to Agatha, pointed to a door in a bulkhead of rough white wood.
“It should have been locked, but I fancy you can get in that way, and up through another hatch,” he remarked. “The single women, and women with children, are in yonder, and if you want to be useful there’s a field for you. Get as many as possible up on deck.”
Agatha left him, and her face was rather white when at last she came up into the open air, with about a dozen forlorn, draggled women trailing helplessly after her. The lads were now sitting down in a double line on deck, each with a tin plate and a steaming pannikin in front of him. There were at least a hundred of them, and a man with a bronzed face and the stamp of command upon him was giving them the order of the voyage. He was the one she had already noticed.
“You’ll turn out at the whistle at half-past six,” he said. “Shake mattresses, roll up blankets, and prepare for berth inspection. Then, at the next whistle, you’ll fall in on deck stripped to the waist for washing parade. Fourth files numbering even are orderlies in charge of the plates and pannikins.”
“And,” announced the sergeant, “any insubordination will be sharply dealt with. Now, when I was with Roberts in Afghanistan——”
Wyllard, who was standing close by, turned to Agatha.
“I don’t think we’ll be wanted. You have probably earned your breakfast.”
They went back to the saloon deck, and the girl smiled when he looked at her inquiringly.