CHAPTER XV

THE TYPHOON "'Tain't 'arf a swot!" exclaimed one of the bluejackets, wiping the perspiration from his face and gloomily eyeing the results of the day's work. "Talk about a bloomin' coolie. 'E's got a soft job compared with ourn." The men had knocked off for the day. They were sitting on boxes and were engaged in consuming a well-earned meal. Their officer, having seen that they were provided for, was again taking compass-bearings to make doubly sure that his previous observations were quite accurate. "That's a …