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This latter precaution, however, proved a useless one; for the gang of eager lads working away with a will at the crank-handles of the pumps, soon cleared the little amount of water that was in the bilge, and the shaft sucked dry. "Ther' ain't a drop in her," reported Mr Tarbolt, the quarter-master, `old Jellybelly, as we called him amongst ourselves.
They wore working away, sir, last night at some of the b'ys' hammicks; and one of 'em yelled out that they was nibblin' their toes!" "Oh!" cried the captain, "we must put a stop to that. My dog here is a good ratter, and I think he'll be able to polish off a few for you. Where do you think, Tarbolt, the brutes hang out?"
"Away forrard, sir, under some o' that spare gear thet's stowed there, sir; and likewise down in the bilge amongst the ballast and dunnage." "Very good; shove your lantern, Tarbolt, over here," said the captain, edging forwards as he spoke, with `Gyp' and the rest of the officers a- following him. "Boys, you can stand off for a bit from your pumping and come and see the fun."
Just as we were shoving off, Mick spied old Jellybelly on duty at the gangway, and he could not help giving him a parting shot. "Good luck to ye, Mr Tarbolt, an' more power to yer elber, sor," he cried out with much effusion.
"I hear, Tarbolt," said the captain, addressing old Jellybelly by his proper name, "you have rats aboard here?" "Aye, aye, sir," replied the quarter-master, drawing himself up sharp from the act of touching up with his cane one of the boys a little way from me, whom he fancied wasn't putting sufficient elbow grease into his work. "I believe, sir, as how the ship reg'lerly swarms with 'em.
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