"You’ve ’it it to a shovelful; it’s wurs’n what them stoke’olds are," I heard Bill reply, as he cut off some tobacco and stuffed it into his cheek. "So long as we don’t get no blooming fire down ’ere, I’m a-comfortable enough a-standin’ ’ere a-watching of them others a-workin’. But what breaks me ’eart every time," he continued, "we don’t seem to never get no ’ead o’ water through this ’ere hose-pipe. I don’t ’old with them new-fangled pumps they’ve got aboard this ’ere junk." "The same ’ere," answered his mate, and they settled themselves comfortably on the coiled-up fire-hose to enjoy their quids of tobacco. Dr. Fox, the three Paymasters, the Chaplain, and the sick-bay people were trying to get a clear corner, and were laying out bandages, tourniquets, and surgical dressings, the mere sight of which made me feel horribly uncomfortable, and more like a rat in a trap than ever. It was bad enough whilst the men were rushing to and fro, and in that thick, stuffy atmosphere you could smell nothing but sweating men; but presently they had brought out as much ammunition as they could heap round the bottom of the hoists, and there was nothing more for them to do yet. The ammunition parties grouped silently below their own special hoists, and the magazine parties had time to pass their arms across their eyes and wipe the stinging sweat away. It was a time of terrible suspense, for not a sound could be heard from above, where we knew the guns’ crews were standing round their guns, and from below nothing but the regular rhythm of the big engines, the rapid throbbing of the dynamo-engines and the pumps behind the bulk-heads, and every now and again the harsh rumbling of the steering-engine aft. Added to all this we were rolling very heavily. Presently a man came scrambling down one of the hoists—sliding down the rope—and there was a sudden stir as men eagerly questioned him. "Are we getting close inshore?" "Have the forts opened fire yet?" "Is that big gun still firing?" "Where’s the _Strong Arm_?" Then there was silence again—all but the noises of the engines drumming and thudding on the other side of the white bulk-heads. The First Lieutenant, trying to appear calm, walked round and round, first along the port side, then down the starboard passage, seeing that everything was ready and everybody in his place, speaking a word here and there to a petty officer, and followed closely by his midshipman messenger, a very junior chap we called "Daisy". Then the little bell at our end of the conning-tower voice-pipe tinkled loudly. The man stationed there sang out for the First Lieutenant, and he came running up. Captain Helston was giving him an order from the conning tower. "Very good, sir," he shouted back. "Stand by on the port side, men; we are just going to commence."