“Sentry! What for?”
“The doctor—awfully cut up at leaving his wife: got him in my cabin. Wants to have his cry to himself.”
“Fancy a fellow crying at going to sea!”
“It is not that, sir; it is leaving his wife.”
“Well, is he the only man on board that has got a wife?”
“Why, no, sir. It is odd, now I think of it. Perhaps he has only got that ONE.”
“Curious creatures, landsmen,” said the first lieutenant. “However, you can stick a marine there.”
“And I say, show the YOUNGSTER the berths, and let him choose, as the doctor's aground.”
“Yes, sir.”
So Fitzoy planted his marine, and then went after Lord Tadcaster: he had drawn up alongside his cousin, Captain Hamilton. The captain, being an admirer of Lady Cicely, was mighty civil to his little lordship, and talked to him more than was his wont on the quarterdeck; for though he had a good flow of conversation, and dispensed with ceremony in his cabin, he was apt to be rather short on deck. However, he told little Tadcaster he was fortunate; they had a good start, and, if the wind held, might hope to be clear of the Channel in twenty-four hours. “You will see Eddystone lighthouse about four bells,” said he.