"I'd rather be excused the practice, though, on my part." Bob sniggered at this; and, passing along a narrow dark passage, its obscurity rather increased than diminished by the solitary illuminating power of a single "dip" in a ship's lantern hung up against the side, the lieutenant stopped the Captain from any further grumbling by introducing him into the ward-room, which, being well lit up with little electric lamps, offered a marked contrast to the other parts of the vessel they had traversed.
To the Captain, indeed, it was like passing from purgatory to fairyland, as he said; the more so from the fact of his seeing a well-spread table before him, and there being a savoury smell permeating the atmosphere.
So, he took his seat with alacrity, prepared to do ample justice to whatever viands were brought forward.
Bob, who came in a little later, his curiosity being attracted by the sight of the open torpedo-room adjacent, with its stores of Whitehead tubes, gave the witty young surgeon, who was facing the door, an opportunity of cracking a joke at the expense of his smutty face, which he had been unable to wash since his tumble amongst the coals.
"Hullo, Pompey!" cried out this worthy, who by the way had been previously chaffed by his brother officers, such is the levity of sailors in imminent peril, about the gun accident not having provided him with any patients.

"Hullo, Pompey, you've forgotten your banjo and bones!" Bob did not see the point of the joke at first, although there was a general titter round the lower part of the table where the young surgeon was seated; when Master Bob did, however, he blushed pretty red, looking uncommonly sheepish.
But the lieutenant came to his rescue.
"He has left his bones behind advisedly, Phillips," said he to the young surgeon, who was smiling still at his own witticism, "because he knew, if he brought them, you would only carve and saw them about as you served those fossils at the hospital." This turned the laugh against the other, enabling Bob to sit down in peace and enjoy his luncheon, during which he was much amused at the fun going on amongst the junior officers at their end of the festive board about the splendid chances offered for promotion and "unfortunately missed" by the bursting cannon.
"Just fancy!" observed one of those, speaking in an undertone, so that those of superior rank at the upper end of the table could not hear him.
"Three `flags,' four `posts,' half-a-dozen commanders, and two `first luffs,' all within range of that blessed muzzle that carried away; and not one vacancy on the list!" "It's positively awful," chimed in another, in cordial agreement with his brother sub, "we may never have such a chance again!" The Captain subsequently explained to Bob that they meant that had the several admirals and other officers of rank who stood behind the forty- three ton gun been killed or materially injured when it burst, these thoughtless juniors believed they would have "received a step" on the list, or in other words, would have been probably promoted--which Bob thought extremely wicked and reprehensible on their part.
After the explosion, of course, there was no more gun-practice, the _Archimedes_ slowly making her way back to Spithead, and then into harbour; the broken breech of the unfortunate weapon that had come to grief being carefully covered over with a piece of tarpaulin, so that those on board an Austrian frigate lying in the roadstead, which the ironclad had to go by, should know nothing of the burst, at least from passing observation.

We do not like to show our failures to our friends--only our successes! The Captain and Bob, naturally, got back all the sooner from the trial trip of the _Archimedes_ being thus cut short, reaching "the Moorings," indeed, just as Mrs Gilmour and her guests were going out for a stroll before dinner; when, Rover pranced up to his young master, all affection and oblivious of any "hard feelings" he might have entertained by being left behind in the morning, repeating his magnanimous conduct on a previous occasion! "By Jove!" cried the Captain jocularly, addressing Bob's father.

"That son of yours is bound to turn out something great." "Really, what's he been doing now ?" "Why," replied the old sailor with his customary chuckle, thumping the pavement with his malacca cane to give greater emphasis to his words, "he was half-drowned almost the first evening he came down here; was wrecked in the poor _Bembridge Belle_ the other afternoon; and now, to complete the category, has been blown up to-day." "Boys are like cats," said the barrister smiling.

"They all seem endowed with the same proverbial number of lives." "How funny, Bob," observed Nellie here.