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of the light growing stronger, there was no sign of the brig, and, worse still, everything looked so distorted and hazy, not one familiar object to enable them to judge of their position. "It's just like looking through a big magnifying glass," whispered Oliver, "at the point when everything is upside down and distorted from being out of focus." "Perhaps so," said Drew, "but we're not looking through a magnifying glass." "I wonder that you, a man who is always using a microscope, should talk like that," replied Oliver. "We are not looking through a glass, certainly, but we are piercing a dull transparent medium, caused by water in the form of mist floating in the air. I don't want to be conceited, but my idea was quite right." "Quite," said Panton, "only this is not a good time for studying optics. What we want is knowledge that shall bring us to the brig without being shot at by our friends." "Hear that, Tommy," whispered Wriggs. "We're going to be shot at now in front by Muster Rimmer and the others, while the savages shoots at us behind." "Well, if we can't help it, Billy, what's the use o' grumbling?" returned his mate. "'Cause I've got this here ladder. What's the good of a ladder when you're being shot at?" "None as I sees, Billy." "'Course not. Now, if it had been a good stout plank, there'd be some sense in it." "What, you'd shove it behind yer when the niggers was shooting harrers?" said Smith, thoughtfully. "O' course." "And afore yer when Muster Rimmer was lettin' go with his revolver or a gun." "Right you are, mate. That's it." "Might keep off a harrer," said Smith, thoughtfully, "but bullets would go through it like they would through a bar o' soap." "Yah, that's where you allers haggravates me, Tommy. I knows you're cleverer than I am, but sometimes you do talk so soft." "What d'yer mean?" "I mean what's the good o' you hargying whether a bullet would go through a thick plank or whether it wouldn't, when it's on'y a split pole and so many wooden spells. Don't you see it ain't a board but on'y a ladder; and I'm sick on it, that I am." "Then let me carry it." "Sharn't!" "Will you two men be quiet?" said Oliver in a sharp whisper. "Do you want to betray our whereabouts to the enemy?" "It aren't me, sir, it's Tommy Smith keeps a-haggrywating like." "I aren't, sir! it's Billy Wriggs a-going on about that ladder as he's got to carry." "Well, it i
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