"Right-o!" agreed Cavendish soberly, for he was still thinking of his late comrades of B turret. "Let's. We mayn't have another chance, 'specially if we go into action during the night."
CHAPTER XXIX
After the Battle
A buzz of voices greeted the ears of the two chums as they "blew into" the ward-room. The first lieutenant, the engineer-commander, three or four watch-keeping officers, the padre, and the surgeon had foregathered to partake of a "stand-up" meal. The commander, having swallowed a cup of cocoa, was making for the bridge, with the remains of a half-consumed bully-beef sandwich in his bandaged hand.
"Hardly knew we were in action," declared the engineer-commander. "Once or twice, perhaps, when we were hit by shells; otherwise, we might have been on steam trials for all we knew."
"Gave the blighters a bellyful, anyway," observed one of the junior lieutenants. "My gun was out of action five minutes after the battery opened fire. Not half a mess. Looked out and saw an enemy battleship blow up. Seemed slow work, but it really didn't last fifteen seconds."
"I saw her, too," added another. "The wreck of her standard compass landed on our quarter-deck. Hanged if some marines didn't clear out of the battery and start picking up the bits for souvenirs. Hello, Weeds, back to your little grey home again, I see. What were your impressions, old lad?"
"Noise," replied Cavendish. "Had enough to last me a lifetime, so I came down here for quietude and find none."
Which went to show that Cavendish, usually a jovial soul, was decidedly "mouldy". Now that this phase of the action was over, his nerves were very much on edge.