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Updated: June 2, 2025


"Very good, sir," replied the commander; and, as soon as the Frenchmen had hoisted their answering pennant to show that our signal had been taken in and understood, he turned to the poop-rail and sang out, "Bosun's mate, pipe the watch to trim sails!"

Do you think you could get away with a bosun's job?" "I could get away with your job if I had the chance, sir," Matt declared, almost impudently. "There she blows!" the Old Man declared. "Bless me, if you're not a Native Son! Nobody but a Native Son would be that fresh. I suppose this is your second voyage, you puling baby?" Matt Peasley's dander was up instantly.

Ayisha was about to answer him when Grim's shrill bosun's whistle that he keeps for emergencies whined from in front, and the sleepy-looking line awoke with a start. Every single rifle down the length of the caravan, including mine, was unslung in a second and the click of the sliding bolts was as businesslike as if we had been a squad on the parade-ground.

"All right," said Commander Nesbitt, when I reached the poop and repeated Mr Jellaby's message, the import of which he already knew from the stoppage of all movement below, and the report of the boatswain from the forecastle that the anchor was "a short stay apeak"; when, advancing to the rail, he called out in a louder key, "Bosun's mate, pipe the hands to breakfast!"

The bosun's chair had by this time arrived at the barque's taffrail, and was awaiting its first freight; so, as there was no time to lose, I hustled the poor fellow away from his wife, assisted him into the chair, saw that he had a good grip with both hands, and waved for Murgatroyd to haul away, which he instantly did.

At that moment, Captain Farmer came out of his cabin; and, hearing this, directed the officer of the watch, Mr Bitpin, whose rightful turn of duty it was, to set studding sails, not being satisfied, apparently, with the old Candahar's progress, although she was doing her best and surging along in grand style, as I thought. "Bosun's mate!" thereupon sang out the lieutenant.

He was surely a big man; and under his thin sleeveless jersey, surely a solid man. And the pump-man, in his skimpy, badly-fitting dungarees, though of good height, did not look to be much more than half the other's bulk. "That same bosun's beat up more men than any shipping agency ever kept a record of. That's Big Bill. And if you'd ever travelled on oil-tankers, you'd 'a' heard of him.

But there, I must get back; on'y look here. There'll never be a better chance. Here's an old bosun's whistle; stuff it in yer pocket, and don't blow it till the right moment. When you do, blow hard, and me, Barney, and Neb Dumlow's with you." "But " "Butter be hanged, doctor. You've got three pistols, and the door's open.

Will you go?" "Hadn't you better have your breakfuss?" "Breakfast? No," said Don. "I can't eat." "Better. Keep you going, my lad." "Will you take my message?" "No, I won't." "You shall have two guineas." "Where are they?" "My mother will gladly give them to you." "Dessay she will." "And you will go?" "Do you know what a bosun's mate is, my lad?" "I? No. I know nothing about the sea."

We knew that we would not take the latter with us, but then it was practice, and we felt anxious to do something martial as a relief to our excitement. "He's got the orders," whispered little Potter, our latest recruit. "Whoop! we'll get away this morning, sure." The whistle of the bosun's mate on watch echoed shrilly about the decks a few moments later.

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