Little Miss Threepenny trotted round, breathless with the endeavour to keep up with the lad’s stride, presently thanking her stars in earnest terms when, the hour being two, she was allowed to sit on the foc’sle steps of the upper deck in company with a few mothers and sisters to watch the afternoon’s entertainment.
“I shall ’ave to take notice of everything,” she chirruped, “and go through it all when I get back to Pimlico Walk. Trixie will want to ’ear about it.”
“Don’t you go and get frightened,” urged Robert.
“Me frightened?”
“There’ll be some desperate deeds performed during the next hour,” said Robert importantly.
“So long as there’s no firing of guns,” said the little woman, adjusting her skirts precisely, “I shan’t so much as wink. Once they begin to bang away—”
Two of the women visitors who had been looking curiously at the small creature, hastened to remark with the knowledge born of experience that there would be firing, one adding that for her part she always shut her eyes and put her hands over her ears when it came to that part; an ingenious plan which happy Miss Threepenny promised to adopt. Robert ran off and disappeared.
The alarming clang, clang, clang of a bell! Upon the instant, a swift rushing to and fro; a throwing open of the door leading to the captain’s room; boys with buckets of water hurrying up and forming in line; more boys dragging long boa constrictors of leathern hose up to the doorway; still more boys ready with brass nozzles to fix on; more boys again in a tremendous state of excitement bearing scarlet extincteurs on their backs; a white-capped, white-aproned cook up from below and assisting; sharp commands from the officers; the old captain watching all with his watch open. “Good,” says the captain of the Westmouth presently, “very good indeed. Who was the first bucket up, Mr. Waltham?” “Number Three Fifty-Two, sir,” says the chief officer. “Three Fifty-Two,” thereupon says the captain, “catch this sixpence.”
Band now at a corner of the upper deck, with a stout drum placed upon trestles, to be whacked presently as though it had committed some gross breach of discipline. Music-stands up; brass instruments tested; the bandmaster taps his wooden stand sharply. Three hundred boys in detachments on either side of the deck; first officer, with a voice accustomed to open-air speaking, with the captain on the poop. A brief drill, and then,—
“Form divisions!”