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“‘British swearers,’ ses the major, sniffing. ‘You don’t hear their remarks when that whistle is blown. It’s enough to bring a judgment on the ship.’

“‘If you can point ’em out to me I’ll punish ’em,’ says the skipper very warm.

“‘I’m not going to point ’em out,’ ses the major. ‘I symperthise with ’em too much. They don’t get any of their beauty sleep, pore chaps, an’ they want it, every one of ’em.’

“I thought that was a very kind remark o’ the major to make, but o’ course some of the wimmin larfed. I s’pose they think men don’t want beauty sleep, as it’s called.

“I heard the leftenant symperthising with the skipper arter that. He said the major was simply jealous because the men drilled so beautifully, an’ then they walked aft, the leftenant talking very earnest an’ the skipper shaking his head at something he was saying.

“It was just two nights arter this. I’d gone below an’ turned in when I began to dream that the major had borrowed the bos’en’s whistle an’ was practising on it. I remember thinking in my sleep what a comfort it was it was only the major, when one of the chaps give me a dig in the back an’ woke me.

“‘Tumble up,’ ses he, ‘the ship’s afire.’

“I rushed up on deck, an’ there was no mistake about who was blowing the whistle. The bell was jangling horrible, smoke was rolling up from the hatches, an’ some o’ the men was dragging out the hose an’ tripping up the passengers with it as they came running up on deck. The noise and confusion was fearful.

“‘Out with the boats,’ ses Tom Hall to me, ‘don’t you hear the whistle?’

“‘What, ain’t we going to try an’ put the fire out?’ I ses.

“‘Obey orders,’ ses Tom, ‘that’s what we’ve got to do, an’ the sooner we’re away the better. You know what’s in her.’

“We ran to the boats then, an’, I must say, we got ’em out well, and the very fust person to git into mine was the major in his piejammers; arter all the others was in we ‘ad ‘im out agin. He didn’t belong to our boat, an’ dissipline is dissipline any day.

“Afore we could git clear o’ the ship, however, he came yelling to the side an’ said his boat had gone, an’ though we prodded him with our oars he lowered himself over the side and dropped in.

“Fortunately for us it was a lovely clear night; there was no moon, but the stars were very bright. The engines had stopped, an’ the old ship sat on the water scarcely moving. Another boat was bumping up against ours, and two more came creeping round the bows from the port side an’ jined us.

“‘Who’s in command?’ calls out the major.

“‘I am,’ ses the first mate very sharp-like from one of the boats.

“‘Where’s the cap’n then?’ called out an old lady from my boat, ‘o’ the name o’ Prendergast.’

“‘He’s standing by the ship,’ ses the mate.

“‘Doing what?‘ ses Mrs. Prendergast, looking at the water as though she expected to see the skipper standing there.

“‘He’s going down with the ship,’ ses one o’ the chaps.

“Then Mrs. Prendergast asked somebody to be kind enough to lend her a handkerchief, becos she had left her pocket behind aboard ship, and began to sob very bitter.

“‘Just a simple British sailor,’ ses she, snivelling, ‘going down with his ship. There he is. Look! On the bridge.’

“We all looked, an’ then some o’ the other wimmin wanted to borrer handkerchiefs. I lent one of ’em a little cotton waste, but she was so unpleasant about its being a trifle oily that she forgot all about crying, and said she’d tell the mate about me as soon as ever we got ashore.

“‘I’ll remember him in my prayers,’ ses one o’ the wimmin who was crying comfortable in a big red bandana belonging to one o’ the men.