He did not wish to purchase any fish, even at grossly reduced
rates. Nobody wished to buy any fish. This ship was the _Devolution_ at
anchor, and desired no communication with shore boats.
"Mark how the Navy 'olds it's own. He's sober. The _Agathites_ are not, as
you might say, an' yet they can't live with 'im. It's the discipline that
does it. 'Ark to the bald an' unconvincin' watch-officer chimin' in. I
wonder where Mr. Moorshed has got to?"
We drifted down the _Devolution's_ side, as we had drifted down her
sister's; and we dealt with her in that dense gloom as we had dealt with
her sister.
"Whai! 'Tis a man-o'-war, after all! I can see the captain's whisker all
gilt at the edges! We took 'ee for the Bournemouth steamer. Three cheers
for the real man-o'-war!"
That cry came from under the _Devolution's_ stern. Pyecroft held something
in his teeth, for I heard him mumble, "Our Mister Moorshed!"
Said a boy's voice above us, just as we dodged a jet of hot water from
some valve: "I don't half like that cheer. If I'd been the old man I'd ha'
turned loose the quick-firers at the first go-off. Aren't they rowing
Navy-stroke, yonder?"
"True," said Pyecroft, listening to retreating oars. "It's time to go 'ome
when snotties begin to think. The fog's thinnin', too."
I felt a chill breath on my forehead, and saw a few feet of the steel
stand out darker than the darkness, disappear--it was then the dinghy shot
away from it--and emerge once more.
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