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In fact, it rather resembled a snake that had been run over. The Commander was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The Signal-boy hovered on the outskirts of the conference. Bitter experience in the past had taught him not to obtrude when deep called thus to deep. "We must cut it where it's nipped, and put a splice in it, Mr. Cassidy," the Commander was saying, and turned his head.
In the meanwhile the Signal-boy had descended to the wardroom, where he swiftly pinned the signal on to the notice board. The occupants of the arm-chairs and settee followed his movements with drowsy interest. The Young Doctor rose and walked to the notice board. "Snooks!" he ejaculated. "Leave!" And, with a glance at the clock, hurried out of the mess.
Truly a man of iron, reflected the Signal-boy as he saluted and ran aft in search of the Officer of the Watch. The Officer of the Watch received the intelligence with almost equal unconcern, but when the boy had departed out of earshot he said something in an undertone and added: "Just my blooming luck." Then, raising his voice, he shouted: "Quartermaster!
The last answering pendant from the Fleet shot up above the bridge rails, and the impatient semaphore on the Flagship's bridge commenced waving its arms. The Yeoman of the Watch in the second ship of the line steadied his glass against an angle of the chart house. "'Ere y'are! Write down, one 'and." A Signal-boy stepped to his elbow with a pad and pencil in readiness.
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