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Updated: May 31, 2025
Crick, crack, sputter, and then report after report, as loud as those made by a revolver, while each steam-shot was followed by a ball of white vapour which came rushing up as from the mouth of a gun. "Hurrah!" came from by the pump again, and Mr Preddle came slowly along to pass me and get forward. "I suppose I can get by you," he said. "No, no; don't try it," I cried excitedly.
Mr Frewen and the mate were first, Mr Preddle and I behind, and I was just thinking that it was nearly time for the whistle to be blown and the rush made, while I thought, too, how easy it would be to make a mistake and injure a friend with our pistols, when the ship gave such a lurch that we all went heavily against the bulwarks, to which we clung to save ourselves from a heavy fall, then bang, splash, rose a wave over the bows, and a voice which came from one of the figures by the light from the hatch yelled forth a torrent of oaths as he asked what the men were doing at the wheel.
She put her hand in mine, and I led her through the saloon, now full of a lurid light, and into the captain's cabin, where the rope still hung down. "Be ready to help, Mr Preddle," I said, as I hauled it up, and handed the end to Bob Hampton, who came in loaded. "Make a loop, Bob, and help lower Miss Denning down." "That I will, my dear lad," he said, shooting his load on one of the lockers.
I feel sometimes as if I could kill them all." "Gone to her own cabin, Dale," said Mr Frewen, meeting us at the saloon-door-way, and Mr Preddle looked at us inquiringly. "Dale is afraid of Miss Denning seeing his wounds," said Mr Frewen, laughing. "He does not think they look the proper kind to be proud of."
"Like this," cried Mr Preddle, eagerly, stooping down to apply the cartridge to the mouth of the little brass gun. "Sure you did it like that, sir?" "Yes; certain." "Then no wonder it didn't go off. Why, that's the way to sarve one o' them breeches-loaders. You don't put a cartridge ball first into the muzzle of a gun." "Why, no!" cried Mr Preddle, colouring like a girl. "How stupid!"
But the cabin arrangements were put straight, and Miss Denning and Mr Preddle did all they could to provide a comfortable late dinner, which, if not hot, was plentiful. Then Mr Frewen did all he could for his patients, and Neb Dumlow was bandaged and ordered to rest. He said he could not, for there was so much to do.
He fired, evidently aiming in the direction of Mr Frewen's voice, for the bullet whizzed over the doctor's head; when, without waiting for orders, Mr Preddle fired back, and his shot was followed by a sharp ejaculation, suggesting that some one had been hit; but directly after we heard a little talking, and several shots were fired at us, but without effect.
"Never mind," I said to myself; "wait a bit," as I bit my lips and stood with clenched fists, thinking in my annoyance how much I should like to use them. But I consoled myself by going to Mr Frewen's drawer and opening the case and looking at the bright steel saws, and then talking in a whisper to Mr Preddle, who came to the little opening to know whether anything was the matter.
The little round window was darkened for a few moments, and Mr Preddle held on with both hands. "What's that?" he cried, excitedly. "Is there any danger?" "Danger? No," I said with a laugh. "It was only a wave. Good job you hadn't opened your window. Don't you ever shave, then, sir?" "No," he said with a sigh; "my beard never came."
There's Mr Trout-and-Salmon Preddle at one handle, and the doctor at t'other, with Mr Brymer to relieve while we're off dooty to go and 'vestigate the wittling department. That's so, eh, lads?" "Ay, ay," growled Dumlow. "That's so," said Barney; "and then I'm to take my turn at the squirting, if so be as you can't put it out." "No fear of that, Barney," I cried.
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