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Updated: June 27, 2025
Things were pretty quiet below, I found, most of the noisier spirits of the mess having eaten their fill and departed; and, fortunately, the gunroom steward had not forgotten us late-comers, there being plenty of the "water-bewitched" sort of beverage that goes by the name of "tea" on board ship, albeit we had to be content with an extra allowance of sugar in lieu of milk.
When I learn what has happened I will bring you word." He strode away down the lower corridor, calling as he went to Narracott, the butler, to fetch a lantern and unbolt the hall-door, and entered the gunroom with Father Halloran at his heels. "I cannot ask you to take a hand in this," he said, finding his favourite gun and noiselessly disengaging it from the rack, pitch dark though the room was.
Gresham must have been waiting inside the door; as soon as Rand came up onto the porch, he opened it, and motioned the detective inside. Beyond a hasty greeting as Rand passed the threshold, he did not speak until they were seated in the gunroom upstairs. Then he came straight to the point.
Master Larkyns knew as well as myself that if the tragic result of their skylarking should get wind and reach the ears of Captain Farmer, he and his brother mids would have a rough time of it, and probably all be had up on the quarter-deck. "All serene, Vernon, I under-constubble," he softly whispered back to me, in our gunroom slang.
What he did, of course, was to draw a tub full of water, undress, put on his bathrobe and slippers, hide the .36 Colt under the bathrobe, and then go across the hall to the gunroom, where he found Mr. Fleming sitting on that cobbler's bench, putting the finishing touches on the Leech & Rigdon.
"It won't do, Browne," said Deppingham, shaking his head. "They are fatalists, they are stoics. I know the breed better than you. Question if you like, but threats will be of no avail. Keep 'em locked up, that's all." Firearms and ammunition were taken from the gunroom to the quarters occupied by the white people.
At about half-past, Nelda went out somewhere in the coupé. Anton had gone up to his laboratory, in the attic he's one of these fortunates whose work is also his hobby; he's a biochemist and dietitian and Lane was in the gunroom, on the second floor, working on his new revolver. Fred Dunmore was having a bath, and Geraldine and I had taken our coffee into the east parlor.
"You were at Suvla Bay and the landing from the River Clyde," he retorted. "You can't have every ruddy thing in life." A fine day in Ultima Thule they were rare was an occasion for thankfulness and rejoicing. Directly after luncheon the members of Gunroom and Wardroom made their way on deck to bask in the sun and smoke contemplative post-prandial pipes in the lee of the after superstructure.
"Well, he went on calling me an impudent youngster," continued Martin, "and all that sort of thing and he tried to set the other fellows against me. Oh, it isn't all jam in the Royal Navy! You haven't left school when you go there, and the gunroom isn't always just exactly paradise, you know! And if your seniors try to make it hot for you, why they can!"
"You know that big gray book Father kept all his pistols entered in." "It was a gray ledger, with a black leather back," Gladys said. "He kept it in the little bookcase over the workbench in the gunroom." "I'll look for it," Rand said. "Sure it's still there? It would be a big help to me." The rest of the dinner passed in relative tranquillity. The conversation proceeded in fairly safe channels.
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