“It’s a curious thing about the cargo having been all taken out of the Flying-fish, sir; and by all accounts it’s a valuable one.”
The gunnery lieutenant turned and looked at me keenly.
“You young rascal,” he said, “you’re trying to pump me; but you do it in such a clumsy way that I can’t help seeing through you.”
I felt rather confused.
“Well, sir,” I said, “I do hope that I may be allowed to go on the expedition up country if it is true that a force is to be landed.”
“It will be no secret in an hour’s time, Darcy, so I may as well tell you that to-morrow morning a naval brigade is to be landed in order to hunt down the mutineers and rebels; and I think there is a very fair chance of your being able to go. The captain, I believe, has permission from the captain-general to take any steps he may think necessary to bring the delinquents to justice.”
I begged the gunnery lieutenant, who had always shown me great kindness, to try to get me appointed to the expedition, and he promised to use his influence in that direction. I then ran off to the sick-bay to see my friend Charlie and tell him the news, which I felt sure he had not as yet heard. I found him much better; and the surgeon, who was just leaving the sick-bay as I entered, told me that I need have no fear as to his recovery.
This was very good news; but I found that I had been forestalled as news-carrier by Dr. Grant, and that Charlie was as well informed on the subject of the expedition as I was myself.
“It’s jolly hard lines that I can’t go, old chap,” he said to me; “but the surgeon says I must be on the broad of my back and nurse this wretched old head of mine for some time to come. Pleasant prospect, eh?”
“I’m very sorry indeed,” I answered; “and you must try to console yourself with the fact that you’ve still a head screwed tight and fast on your shoulders. Poor Lobb had his taken off by a round-shot.”