There was a titter of amusement as the Sergeant-Major yelled for the men to help him find it.
"'Ere it is, you blighted idiot!" someone shouted. "You was a-sittin' on it."
"'Elp me on! 'Elp me on!" the idiot pleaded.
"You'll 'ave to 'ave a lady's maid, that's what you'll 'ave to 'ave. We cawn't go waiting for you, Bill 'Awkins," bawled the Sergeant-Major; and to judge by the silly cries of Bill Hawkins, they were strapping him up too tightly.
"Where's me rifle? I 'ad it in me 'ands, and now I cawn't find 'e," the company idiot stammered helplessly; and the man whom the Orphan was helping chuckled: "'E's a fair treat, that 'ere 'Awkins; 'e can never find nothink."
The rifle had to be found. The Captain with the lackadaisical voice was getting impatient. Matches were struck to look for it.
"Come along, Worcesters! Get up on deck!" shouted the Captain; and they began clattering up the wooden ladder, actually bandying jokes as they disappeared over the coaming, and went pattering along the deck. The company idiot, who was in a pitiable state of terror lest he should be left behind, found his rifle at last, and, clutching it, he rushed up the ladder after them.
"Now 'old on to it, and don't let it out o' yer 'ands. You'll 'ave to look arter yerself now," said the Sergeant-Major kindly, as he followed him.
Whilst these men had been getting ready, another outburst of firing had commenced, and the fusillade on shore sputtered furiously.
"I shouldn't care to have to go ashore, out into that," Dr. Gordon said; and Dr. O'Neill answered: "I wouldn't go as cheerfully as they seemed to. Grand chaps those!"
"That's the first time I've heard him praise anyone," thought the Orphan.
Firing died away again, until only an occasional shot broke the silence; and with that company of Worcesters gone, there was much more room.
The two doctors talked in a low voice. The Orphan heard Dr. O'Neill say cynically: "You can't get a night like this in Harley Street;" and the volunteer reserve doctor laughed, in his funny, nervous manner: "No, I can't. I expect my old butler wouldn't sleep much if he knew how I was spending my night. He looks after me as though I were a baby."
Someone came down the ladder--the Orphan thought he had on a naval cap--sat with his back against a stanchion, and went to sleep. A man coming down presently, knocked against him and woke him--a perfect torrent of oaths, in a very childish voice, following.