She's going to make for sea-where'dall those people come from? said the younger watchman.

The younger watchman reached over the other side of the little tower's parapet to grasp a rope that dangled there.

"Right sloppy sailor, that one," said the younger watchman, looking-glass in hand.

"That's not a galleon," said the younger watchman.

"Gods, that's fire-oil," said the younger watchman.

"Yellow lights, sergeant," said the younger watchman.

"Me too," the younger watchman agreed.