“Drop down here, Nanny,” he said, kindly. “Everything is all right. Just descend carefully, and I’ll help you to the deck.”
“Oh, Clif, I’m afraid,” was the piteous reply. “I—I—struck an officer, and they’ll send me to prison.”
“Nonsense, chum. We are both in trouble on account of that ‘plebe deviler,’ Sharpe, but they can’t do much to us. I expect we will be court-martialed, but we’ve plenty of witnesses on our side. Come down, that’s a good boy.”
“You are not fooling me?”
Clif laughed encouragingly.
“That’s a nice thing to say,” he replied. “I am ashamed of you.”
Nanny smiled also, and prepared to descend. He cautiously lowered one foot and then started to follow with the other. As he did so he stepped, swayed outward, and after one frantic grasp at the rigging, fell down, down from the dizzy height.
A cry of horror came from the spectators.
“He will be killed!”
“Heavens! what a fall!”