“Well, the same day that we got rid o’ the tiger we was sent aboard a Malay ship to flog one o’ the men. He’n bin up to some mischief, an’ his comrades were afraid, I s’pose, to flog him; and as the offence he had committed was against us somehow (I never rightly understood it myself), some of us went aboard the Malay ship, tied him up, an’ gave him two dozen.
“That night the whole ship’s company slep’ on deck as usual—officers as well—all but the cap’n, who had gone ashore. It was a tremendous hot night, an’ a good deal darker than usual. There was one man in the ship named Wilson; but we called him Bob Roarer, because of a habit he had of speakin’ an’ sometimes roarin’ in his sleep. Bob lay between me an’ the purser that night, an’ we slep’ on all right till it was getting pretty late, though there was two or three snorers that got their noses close to the deck an’ kep’ up a pretty fair imitation of a brass band. Suddenly Bob began to dream, or took a nightmare or somethin’, for he hit straight out with both fists, givin’ the purser a tap on the nob with his left, an’ diggin’ his right into my bread-basket with such good will that he nearly knocked all the wind out o’ me, at the same time he uttered a most appallin’ yell.
“The confusion that followed is past description.
“Some of us thought it was the tiger had broke loose,—forgettin’ that it had been sent ashore. Bob sneaked off the moment he found what he’d done, and the purser, thinkin’ it was pirates, grabbed the first he could lay hold of by the throat, and that was me, so to it we went tooth an’ nail, for I had no notion who was pitchin’ into me, it was so dark. Two of the men in their fright sprang up the main shrouds. Two others, who were asleep in the main-top, were awoke by the row, looked down on the starboard side, an’ saw the two comin’ up. Thinking it was the friends of the Malay who had been flogged coming to be revenged, they ran down the port shrouds like mad, and one o’ them rushed along the port-deck, stickin’ his feet into the bread-baskets of all the sleepers that hadn’t been woke by the yell, rousin’ them up an’ causin’ them to roar like bo’suns. The row woke the cook, who was a nigger; he, thinkin’ it was a sudden jollification, seized one o’ the coppers an’ began to beat it with an iron spoon. This set up the quartermaster, who rushed along the starboard deck, trampin’ upon the breasts and faces of all and sundry. The gunner thought it was the tiger, and took to the top of the awning; while the doctor and bo’s’n’s-mate they jumped over the side, and hung on by ropes up to their waists in water!
“At the worst o’ the confusion the cap’n came aboard. We didn’t see him, but he ordered silence, an’ after a while we discovered that there was no reason whatever for the shindy. It wasn’t till a long time afterwards that we found out the real cause of the false alarm; but the only man that got no fright that night, and kep’ quite cool, was the man who set it all agoin’—Bob Roarer.”
“What a feller you are, Bill, to talk blarney,” said Corney, rising and knocking the ashes out of his pipe; “sure, aither yer father or yer mother must have bin an Irishman.”
“Blarney or no blarney, them’s the facts,” said Moxey, yawning, “an’ I’m off to bed.”
“Ditto,” said Frank, stretching himself.
The two tressels, which were always removed from the room during the day, had been brought in, and were by this time occupied by Mason and Williams, whose duty it was to keep watch that night. Baxmore, the sub-engineer of the station, sat down at the desk to read over the events of the day, and the others rose to leave.
“By the way, Baxmore,” said Dale, “what was that false alarm at 2 p.m. when I was down at Watling Street?”