Now, you men oblige me by hustling.
I don't want to wait more than sixty seconds for the last man of you." "I've a good mind to crawl back into my bunk," growled another of the men.
"All right," retorted Tom Reade, with suspicious cheerfulness.

"Try it and see what kind of fireworks I carry concealed on my person.

Or, just lag a little bit on me, and you'll see the same thing.

Men, do you realize that there's foul play afoot out on the retaining wall?
We've got to go out there in time to stop anything more happening.

Now, you've got your shoes on; grab the rest of your clothing and hustle it on as we make for the beach.