Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 3, 2025
"Tell him what we're driving at. Get it into his head somehow," said Moorshed; and Pyecroft, snatching the cup from me, enfolded the old man with an arm and a mist of wonderful words. "And if you pull it off," said Moorshed at the last, "I'll give you a fiver." "Lard! What's fivers to me, young man?
Then on the bridge semaphore itself: "Have been trying to attract your attention last half hour. Send commanding officer aboard at once." "Our attention? After all the attention we've given 'er, too," said Pyecroft. "What a greedy old woman!" To Moorshed: "Signal from the Cryptic, Sir." "Never mind that!" said the boy, peering through his glasses. "Our dinghy quick, or they'll paint our marks out.
"Is there such a thing as one fine big drink aboard this one fine big battleship?" "Can do, sir," said Pyecroft, and got it. Beginning with Mr. Moorshed and ending with myself, junior to the third first-class stoker, we drank, and it was as water of the brook, that two and a half inches of stiff, treacly, Navy rum.
Moorshed, in a gray Balaclava and a brown mackintosh with a flapping cape, hauled at our supplementary funnel guys, and a thing like a waiter from a Soho restaurant sat at the head of the engine-room ladder exhorting the unseen below. The following wind beat down our smoke and covered all things with an inch-thick layer of stokers, so that eyelids, teeth, and feet gritted in their motions.
Us'll find 'em, if us has to break our fine new bowsprit so close as Crump's bull's horn!" "Good egg!" quoth Moorshed, and brought his hand down on the wide shoulders with the smack of a beaver's tail. "Us'll go look for they by hand. Us'll give they something to play upon; an' do 'ee deal with them faithfully, an' may the Lard have mercy on your sowls! Amen. Put I in dinghy again."
At no time could we see the trawler though we heard the click of her windlass, the jar of her trawl-beam, and the very flap of the fish on her deck. "Aie! yeou little man-o'-war! We'm done with trawl. You can take us home if you know the road." "Right O!" said Moorshed. "We'll give the fishmonger a run for his money. Whack her up, Mr. Hinchcliffe." The next few hours completed my education.
Come along!" By this time I was long past even hysteria. I remember Pyecroft's bending back, the surge of the driven dinghy, a knot of amazed faces as we skimmed the Cryptic's ram, and the dropped jaw of the midshipman in her whaler when we barged fairly into him. "Mind my paint!" he yelled. "You mind mine, snotty," said Moorshed.
"I 'ave ascertained that Stiletto, Wraith, and Kobbold left at 6 P. M. with the first division o' Red Fleet's cruisers except Devulotion and Cryptic, which are delayed by engine-room defects." Then to me: "Won't you go aboard? Mr. Moorshed 'ud like some one to talk to. You buy an 'am an see life."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking