"By Jove, it was a near squeak, though!" "Sure, it's your own fault you're not cool and comfortable like mesilf," said Mrs Gilmour, whom Hellyer had escorted to the pier.

He had, likewise, secured a good seat for her in the stern-sheets of the boat, as the Captain had previously done; and here she was now snugly ensconced when the late-comers arrived-- "How hot you do look, to be sure!" "Humph!" growled the Captain, not making any further reply to her rather exasperating remark until he had finished mopping his flushed face with a bright bandana handkerchief of the same red hue; when he added grimly, as if somewhat out of temper, "If I'm hot, ma'am, you're _cool_, that's all I can say!" Mrs Gilmour, however, was used to his ways and knew how to humour him.
"Now, don't you go pretending you're angry," she said, laughing merrily.
"You needn't, sure, for I know better!" "As you please, ma'am, as you please, ma'am," he replied, adding with his usual chuckle-- "I know you are bound to have your own way, ma'am, whether I like it or not!" They both laughed at this, these little tiffs between them being of frequent occurrence, especially of an evening over the cribbage-board; and, matters being again on a comfortable footing, they turned to the children, who were looking out, as before, over the side at the various objects that presented themselves as the _Bembridge Belle_ ploughed her way back to Southsea.
The steamer passed quite close to one of the harbour forts in the sea, guarding the approaches to Spithead; and, of course, Bob, who with Dick had now again donned his shoes and stockings, wanted to know all about the imposing structure with its frowning guns, by the side of which the boat they were in seemed a veritable cockleshell, although a fairly good-size; vessel.
Equally, of course, the Captain had to tell him what he knew--how the fort was built of solid masonry, sixteen feet thick, with two feet of armour-plating outside that; and how the little fortress, as it undoubtedly was, had a well dug deep down into the sands below the sea, to supply its garrison with fresh-water in the event of communication being cut off with the mainland.

To provide against which contingency it was also provisioned and furnished with every requisite to stand a siege.
He was explaining all this, when a large screw-steamer, high in the bows and low in the stern, crossed the _Bembridge Belle_ making for Portsmouth.
"Hullo, ma'am!" cried the Captain, glad to have the opportunity of a sly dig at Mrs Gilmour in remembrance of her previous amusement at his expense, "there's your pig-boat!" "What!" said she innocently.

"I don't understand you." "The Irish pig-boat, ma'am," he repeated, his beady black eyes twinkling and his bushy eyebrows moving up and down, as they always did when he said anything funny.

"It brings your fellow-countrymen over here twice a week." "You're very complimentary, sir," said she.