rtfelt relief. "Thank God you're not drowned!
But, where are you, old fellow; I can't see you?"

"Right under your very nose, you blind old mole! I am bent on to a
bight of the whip falls," I answered, with a chuckle. "Keep the other
end of the rope taut, old chap, and I'll be able to climb up back into
the port without anybody being the wiser but ourselves, my hearty, and
so we'll all escape going into the report."

He grasped the situation in an instant; and, likewise, saw the
advisability of keeping the matter quiet now that I was not in any
imminent peril.

Master Larkyns knew as well as myself that if the tragic result of their
skylarking should get wind and reach the ears of Captain Farmer, he and
his brother mids would have a rough time of it, and probably all be had
up on the quarter-deck.

"All serene, Vernon, I under-constubble," he softly whispered back to
me, in our gunroom slang. "Do you think you can manage to climb up by
yourself, or shall I come down and help you?"

"Fiddlesticks, you duffer! I can get up right enough on _my own_
cheek," I said with a titter, though my mouth was full of the brackish
water into which I had plunged at first head and ears over, while my
teeth were chattering with cold, the frosty November air being chilly.
"I shall fancy I'm climbing the greasy pole at a regatta and that you're
the pig on the top, old fellow. How's that, umpire, for your
`Squaretoes,' eh?"

"Ah, pax! You're a trump, Jack Vernon, and I promise never to call you
by that name any more as it annoys you," he replied, chuckling at my
joke, though it was at his own expense. He then leant out of the port
further so as to get a tight grip of the whip fall, the other fellows
holding on to him in turn to prevent his toppling over and joining me
below, singing out as soon as their preparations were completed, calling
out to me, "Are you ready?"

"Ready?" I repeated, quoting my favourite Napierian motto again. "Ay
ready!"

"Then, up you come, my joker! Put your feet in the bight and hold on to
the slack of the rope above your head and we'll hoist you up in regular
man-of-war fashion. Now, my lads, pull baker, pull devil!"

He spoke under his breath; and yet, I heard every word he said, not only
to me, but to the others inboard, grouped behind him within the port.

Quick as lightning I followed out his directions, clinging to the lower
end of the rope like an eel; and, as soon as I gave the word,