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"That's right enough, sir; here's the oakum and tools. Been a fire. Here's the little pitch kettle." "O' course it's right, messmets. What's yer game press-gang?" "Hush!" whispered the commanding voice. "You're an old sailor?" "Nay, not old, your honour," said Tom. "Thirty-two, all but the legs I lost. They warn't so old by some years." "A joker, eh? Well, look here, my lad.
"It's horrible, horrible," groaned Mark; and he bent over Mr Russell's face, and tried to make out whether there was any sign of returning consciousness. "At a time like this, messmets," whispered Tom Fillot to those nearest to him, "I'd be quiet. Mr Vandean's in a deal of trouble about the lufftenant."
"Look sharp, lads," said Bob Hampton, "or Frog-soup 'll be back and bully us." "Must give the jollop purser a drop more," said Dumlow. "Here, he arn't dead neither; takes the water down as free as if it were grog. They'll come right agen, won't they?" "Ay, to be sure," said Bob Hampton. "Now then, heave ahead afore he comes. Rum games these here, messmets."
"Yer health, messmets," he said, raising the baler, "and wishing us all out of our difficulties." He took another sip of the muddy fluid, and nodded as he passed the tin to the next man. "Drink hearty, messmet," he said, "and pass it on. This is something like water. Reg'lar strong slab stuff as has got plenty o' victuals in it as well as drink. Reg'lar meaty water, like soup."
"Got a drink o' water, messmets?" "Plenty, my lad," said Tom Fillot, passing the tin. "How's your head this morning?" "Bit achey," said the coxswain, who took the tin and drained it. "Hah!" he ejaculated, as he drew a long, deep breath, "that's good, but you forgot to send it through the skipper's pilfer." "Warn't time, matey," said Tom watching him curiously.
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