eassured and said, in a more
cheery tone, "no, not cut, I think, only a severe contusion, thank you,
Mr Jellaby. The pain has nearly gone now!"

"That's right; I'm glad you've escaped so well," said "Joe," taking Mr
Smythe's arm again and wheeling him in line so as to resume their walk;
while I stood by, with my ears cocked, listening to the detached
fragments of their talk. "On board my last ship, the _Blanche_, we had
a rum start one day with our life-buoy sentry. Would you like me to
tell you the story?"

"Thanks, much," responded the chaplain; "I should be delighted."

"Well, you see," began the lieutenant, starting off with his yarn and
quarter-deck walk again simultaneously, "we had a lot of raw marine lads
who had just enlisted sent us from Forton to complete our complement;
and, one of these green hands, as luck would have it, was placed as
sentry on the poop by the sergeant of the guard, the first day he came
aboard, though he'd probably never seen a ship in his life before. You
see, eh?"

"Ah!" ejaculated the chaplain as "Joe" turned abruptly when close up to
the taffrail and nearly twisted him off his legs. "Yes, I--ah--see."

"When the poor jolly was put on sentry," continued the lieutenant,
bolstering up Mr Smythe with his arm and just saving him in the nick of
time from coming to grief again over a ringbolt on the deck, "the
sergeant told him he would have to call out when the bell was struck,
thinking, of course, he knew all about it. The poor fellow, though, as
you are aware, was quite ignorant of the custom; so, as soon as the
sergeant's back was turned, he asked one of the men of the starboard
watch standing by, `What am I to call out when they strike the bell?'

"`Life-buoy!' replied the other. `Life-buoy!'

"`All right, chummy, I thank you kindly,' said the young marine, full of
gratitude; and so, when, by-and-by, Two Bells were struck, he called out
in a voice that could be heard all over the ship, `Live boy!'"

"He--he--he!" chuckled the chaplain in his feeble way, he and Mr
Jellaby coming to a stop, I was glad to see, close to where I stood.
"That was funny! Very, very funny!"

"Nothing to what's coming," went on Mr Jellaby, pleased that his
efforts at comic narrative under such difficulties had been so far
successful, the chaplain not objecting to the secular amusement from any
conscientious scruples. "Well, as soon as the ignorant chaw-bacon chap
yelled out this, which natural