"Oh, no," replied "Joe," laughing as usual. "It's only the jolly in charge of the life-buoy. He has to sing out every time the bell is struck to show that he's at his post, just as the sojers ashore on sentry-go cry `All's well!' to tell their sergeant they're not napping, that's all." "Ah!" ejaculated the chaplain with a feeble smile, putting his hand to his head as if in great pain from the blow he had received, "I see--ah, I see." "I hope you haven't hurt yourself," said "Joe," seeing that the other kept his white cambric handkerchief still tightly pressed to his forehead. "That was a rather nasty knock you got! Cut yourself, eh?" "I--I--don't quite know, you know," answered the reverend gentleman, removing the handkerchief after some hesitation and proceeding to examine it carefully as if fearing the worst; but, finding now no trace of blood on its snowy surface, he became reassured 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!'"