you; for if you're putting up a game you'll be hanged to the yardarm at sunrise. That's regulations. Lie quiet, now. I'm hungry and I'm a reg'lar bloomin' cannerbal."
A cord was deftly passed about Jerry's slim waist, tightened, tied, and apparently fastened to his captor also—who growled again as if satisfied. Flint and steel were struck, and a lantern lighted—a lantern enclosed in a wire netting—a battle lantern. It was flashed upon Jerry, and at the same time flashed upon his captor. He saw a very red face—a dirty face but a good-natured face, under a shock of tow hair; and a pair of broad shoulders encased in a heavy woollen jacket. Two bright blue eyes surveyed him.
"A bloomin' bloody stowaway," the man growled, not unkindly. "That's wot! Well, wot you want to know?"
"Where am I, if this isn't the army?" Jerry pleaded.
"The army be blowed," answered the man. "This is the navy, young feller. Bless my eye, but you're in the naval battery, as you'll soon find out, and so'll those bloody dons when we open up in the morning."
"Yes, sir. But I think I'd like to stay, anyway," said Jerry; for he was down under the wind, and he was very tired.
"Right-o, my hearty." The man untied the rope. "Now we can lie yard and yard, but mind you keep quiet, 'cause I'm dead for sleep. One wiggle, and out you go. All quiet below decks. That's discipline and them's man-o'-war orders."
The sailor turned down the lantern, and settled himself with a grunt.
