He stumbled down into the gun-room, where he found the Hun fast asleep with his head on the table. Barnes brought him a glass of beer, and he swallowed it in one draught. "Give me a biscuit—anything—I'm too sleepy to eat."
But Barnes had some sandwiches ready. "Plenty of mustard on 'em—made 'em myself—mustard'll ginger you up. Just you lie down on the cushions, and I'll stick the plate alongside you."
The Pimple found him, and wanted to tell him the latest news. The Orphan told him to "chuck it". The China Doll came in and would have asked him questions, but the Orphan pretended to be asleep, so he tiptoed out again like a mouse. Uncle Podger strolled in, smoking his pipe, and began to play patience. He watched him shuffling and dealing the cards, and then fell asleep.
He woke. The corporal of the gangway was shaking him.
"The Commander wants you, sir."
He dragged himself up. The gun-room was empty. The alarum-clock on the notice-board showed a quarter to eleven, and he went up to the dark quarter-deck, where he found the Commander and reported himself.
"Oh! there you are, are you? I've been sending all over the ship for you. The 'wounded' launch is going down to the River Clyde; I've no one else to send with her; Rawlinson has gone away in a cutter and I can't trust anyone else; the steam pinnace will tow you down, and the doctors are going with you. I've sent four hands into the launch already, and she's at the starboard boom; drop her astern and alongside the port gangway. Hurry up!"
Still half asleep, the Orphan found this big pulling boat (fitted to transport wounded, she had been), dropped into her, and five minutes later brought her alongside.
The Hun, in the pinnace, came along out of the dark, bumped into her, and got her painter made fast to the towing-cleat. "They're having a jolly lively time down at the River Clyde!" the Hun called across.
The Orphan, turning his sleepy head in that direction, listened, and heard a good deal of rifle-firing, and occasionally the spluttering of a maxim.