"What's a torpedo-gunner more or less to a full lootenant commanding six
thirty-knot destroyers for the first time? 'E seemed to cherish the 'ope
that 'e might use the _Gnome_ for 'is own 'orrible purposes; but what I
told him about Mr. Jones's sad lack o' nerve comin' from Pompey, an' going
dead slow on account of the dark, short-circuited _that_ connection.
'M'rover,' I says to him, 'our orders is explicit; _Stiletto's_ reported
broke down somewhere off the Start, an' we've been tryin' to coil down a
new stiff wire hawser all the evenin', so it looks like towin' 'er back,
don't it?' I says. That more than ever jams his turrets, an' makes him
keen to get rid of us. 'E even hinted that Mr. Carteret-Jones passin'
hawsers an' assistin' the impotent in a sea-way might come pretty
expensive on the tax-payer. I agreed in a disciplined way. I ain't proud.
Gawd knows I ain't proud! But when I'm really diggin' out in the fancy
line, I sometimes think that me in a copper punt, single-'anded, 'ud beat
a cutter-full of De Rougemongs in a row round the fleet."
At this point I reclined without shame on Mr. Pyecroft's bosom, supported
by his quivering arm.
"Well?" said Moorshed, scowling into the darkness, as 267's bows snapped
at the shore seas of the broader Channel, and we swayed together.
"'You'd better go on,' says Commander Fassett, 'an' do what you're told to
do. I don't envy Hignett if he has to dry-nurse the _Gnome's_ commander.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127