Mr. Neilsen was mystified again when he came on deck, for he could have sworn that he saw something uncommonly like his brass-bound trunk disappearing into the hold of the Auld Robin Gray. He was puzzled also by the tail end of the lively conversation that was taking place between Miss Depew and the absurdly young naval officer, with the lisp, who was in command of the patrols.
"Oh, no! I'm afraid we don't uth the dungeonth in the Tower," said that slender youth, while Miss Depew, entirely feminine and smiling like a morning glory now, noted all the details of his peaked cap and the gold stripes on his sleeve. "We put them in country houtheth and feed them like fighting cockth, and give them flower gardenth to walk in."
He turned to Captain Abbey joyously, and lisped over Mr. Neilsen's head:
"That wath a corking metthage of yourth, captain. I believe we got three of them right in the courth you would have been taking to-day. You'll hear from the Admiralty about thith, you know. It wath magnifithent! Good-bye!"
He saluted smartly, and taking Mr. Neilsen tightly by the arm helped him down to the deck of the Ruth.
"Good-by and good luck!" called Captain Abbey.
He beamed over the bulwarks of the Hispaniola like a large red harvest moon through the thin mist that began to drift between them.
"Good-by, Mr. Neilsen!" called Mr. and Mrs. Pennyfeather, waving frantically.
"Good-by, Herr Krauss!" said Miss Depew; and the dainty malice in her voice pierced Mr. Neilsen like a Röntgen ray.
But he recovered quickly, for he was of an elastic disposition. He was already looking forward to the home comforts which he knew would be supplied by these idiotic British for the duration of the war.