Tom Lennard, in a stage whisper which was calculated to soothe a sick man much as the firing of cannon might, said-- "Well, of all the what's-his-names, that beats every book that ever was." Tears were standing in the lady's sweet eyes, and there was something hypocritical in the startling cough whereby Thomas endeavoured to pose as a hard and seasoned old medical character.
Meanwhile Ferrier was slung on board the smack which hailed first, and his education was continued with a vengeance.
"Down there, sir!" Lewis got half way down when a rank waft of acrid and mephitic air met him and half-choked him.

He struggled on, and when he found his bearings by the dim and misty light he sat down on a locker and gasped.

The atmosphere was heated to a cruel and almost dangerous pitch, and the odour!--oh, Zola! if I dared! A groan from a darkened corner sounded hollow, and Ferrier saw his new patient.

The skipper came down and said-- "There he is, sir.

When our topmast broke away it ketches him right in the leg, and we could do nothin'.