“None of your nonsense,” she replied laughing; “I won’t have you making fun of my country like that. I’m sure you’re just as much an Irishman as I am!”
This slip delighted the Captain.
“There, ma’am,” he exclaimed exultingly, “you’ve been and gone and put your foot in it now in all conscience.”
“Oh, auntie!” cried Nellie, “an Irishman!”
This made Mrs Gilmour see her blunder, and she cheerfully joined in the laugh against herself.
Bob, meanwhile, had stationed himself by the engine-room hatchway, and was contemplating with rapt attention the almost human-like movements of the machinery below.
How wonderful it all was, he thought—the up and down stroke of the piston in and out of the cylinder, which oscillated from side to side guided by the eccentric; with the steady systematic revolution of the shaft, borne round by the crank attached to the piston-head, all working so smoothly, and yet with such resistless force!
The whole was a marvel to him, as indeed it is to many of us to whom a marine engine is no novelty.
“Well, my young philosopher,” said the Captain, tapping him on the shoulder and making him take off his gaze for a moment from the sight, “do you think you understand the engines by this time, eh?”
Bob only needed the hint to speak; and out he came with a whole volley of questions.