I'll send for you in a minute. Go
aft!"
Now, only the upper half of Mr. Davies's round face was above the
bulwarks when this torrent of abuse descended upon him; and it
rose inch by inch as the shower continued: blank amazement,
bewilderment, rage, and injured pride chasing each other across it
till he saw his superior officer's left eyelid flutter on the
cheek twice. Then he fled to the engine-room, and wiping his brow
with a handful of cotton-waste, sat down to overtake
circumstances.
"I am desolated," said Judson to his companions, "but you see the
material that you give us. This leaves me more in your debt than
before. The stuff I can replace" (gold-leaf is never carried on
floating gun-platforms), "but for the insolence of that man how
shall I apologise?"
Mr. Davies's mind moved slowly, but after a while he transferred
the cotton-waste from his forehead to his mouth and bit on it to
prevent laughter. He began a second dance on the engine-room
plates. "Neat! Oh, damned neat!" he chuckled. "I've served with a
good few, but there never was one so neat as him. And I thought he
was the new kind that don't know how to put a few words, as it
were!"
"Mr. Davies, you can continue your work," said Judson down the
engine-room hatch.
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