“‘That’s not the way I should ha’ expected to hear you speak of British sailors, major,’ ses the skipper rather huffy.
“‘British swearers? ses the major, sniffing. ‘You don’t hear their remarks when that whistle is blown. It’s enough to bring a judgment on the ship.’
“‘If you can point ’em out to me I’ll punish em,’ says the skipper very warmly.
“‘I’m not going to point ’em out,’ ses the major. ‘I symperthise with ’em too much. They don’t get any of their beauty sleep, pore chaps, an’ they want it, every one of ’em.’
“I thought that was a very kind remark o’ the major to make, but o’ course some of the wimmin larfed. I s’pose they think men don’t want beauty sleep, as it’s called.
“I heard the leftenant sympathising with the skipper arter that. He said the major was simply jealous because the men drilled so beautifully, an’ then they walked aft, the leftenant talking very earnest an’ the skipper shaking his head at something he was saying.
“It was just two nights arter this. I’d gone below an’ turned in when I began to dream that the major had borrowed the bosen’s whistle an’ was practising on it. I remember thinking in my sleep what a comfort it was it was only the major, when one of the chaps give me a dig in the back an’ woke me.
“‘Tumble up,’ ses he, ‘the ship’s a-fire.’
“I rushed up on deck, an’ there was no mistake about who was blowing the whistle. The bell was jangling horrible, smoke was rolling up from the hatches, an’ some of the men was dragging out the hose an’ tripping up the passengers with it as they came running up on deck. The noise and confusion was fearful.
“‘Out with the boats,’ ses Tom Hall to me, ‘don’t you hear the whistle?’