The American captain—for such he was—could not forbear smiling as he listened to Mr. Thompson’s narration.
“Stranger, I forgive you for this night’s work,” said he, “though I must say it is rather uncomfortable to be roused out of a deep sleep and arrested by a lot of fire-eaters like you and your men. I calculate if the President heard of it, there’d be some dispatches passing between the White House and St. James’s that wouldn’t be quite civil in tone.”
Mr. Thompson again tendered his excuses, and prepared to withdraw; but the American skipper and his friends, who had hastily arrayed themselves in dressing-gowns, insisted on our taking a glass of wine with them to show there was no ill-feeling, which we did, though the gunnery lieutenant, I could see, was burning to retire from a scene in which he had played so ridiculous a part.
“I calculate I can give you a hint as to the craft you’re looking for,” remarked the skipper, as he quaffed his wine. “If I’m not mistaken, she left this anchorage yesterday morning and steered in a southerly direction. She is uncommonly like us in build, and much the same rig aloft, but I’d lay a wager of a thousand dollars we could knock her into fits, either running on a wind or close-hauled. If you capture her, lieutenant, just bring the old hooker in here and we’ll have a racing match.”
Mr. Thompson smiled and said he’d see about it, and we then made our adieus and retired.
“Now, Mr. Darcy,” exclaimed my superior, as soon as we were out of earshot, “what shall we do to that rascal Osborne, who misled us so? I vote we string him up to the mainyard-arm as a terrible warning to other crack-brained medicos. By the powers, there might have been a pretty kettle of fish to fry if those Americans hadn’t turned up trumps. I was just on the point of spitting that skipper on the end of my sword when the fray began, and it was only when the master-at-arms rushed into the cabin of one of the ladies, with a couple of marines, and the handcuffs ready for slipping on, that her loud shrieks proved to me that there was something wrong. The whole lot of them then turned out, women and all, and attacked us like a lot of furies. I believe one of my little fingers is broken.”
We found that Mr. Osborne had been conveyed on board the Rattler again, so for the present he escaped the storm of resentment that was brewing in the gallant gunnery lieutenant’s breast.
As I passed under the merchantman’s stern on the way back, I deciphered her name by the aid of a lantern, and read, “Snapping Turtle, of Boston;” so there was no doubt about her nationality.
Ned Burton told me that the Yankee sailors had been in an ungovernable rage till Mr. Giles had come out and released them. Even then they had poured out volleys of invective, and threats of what their Government would do to avenge the insult they had received. At last Ned, stung by their remarks, offered to fight the biggest man amongst them with his fists. This offer they declined, and immediately grew more amicable, exchanging tobacco and compliments before our blue-jackets were ordered off to man the boats.
So ended a truly ludicrous adventure, in which we all cut a sorry figure, and from which we retired, as it were, with our tails between our legs.