“Master Harry is enjoying it, I’m certain,” said Luttrell, trying to seem at ease.
“Well! It’s too much for a child,” said the old man, sorrowfully.
“What do you mean by a child? He’s no child, he’s a well-grown boy, and if he’s eyer to have a man’s heart in him, ought to begin to feel it now.”
“It was no night to send him out, anyhow; and I say it, though it was your honour did it!”
“Because you’re an old fool, and you think you can presume upon your white head and your tottering limbs. Look here; answer me this——”
A fearful thunder roll, followed by a rattling crash like small-arms, drowned his words. “It is a severe night,” said he, “and if she wasn’t a fine sea-boat, with a good crew on board her, I’d not feel so easy!”
“Good as she is, it will thry her.”
“What a faint-hearted old dog you are, and you were a pilot once.”
“I was, Sir. I took Sir George Bowyer up the Chesapeak, and Commodore Warren could tell you whether I know the Baltic Sea.”
“And you are frightened by a night like this!”