“Where is the other lantern?” was Robarts' first word on reaching the deck: as if he didn't know.
“Gone overboard, sir, with the boy Murphy.”
“Stand forward, you, sir,” growled Robarts.
Murphy stood forward, dripping and shivering with cold and fear.
“What d'ye mean by going overboard with the ship's lantern?”
“Och, your arnr, sure some unasy divil drooped the port; and the lantern and me we had no foothold at all at all, and the lantern went into the say, bad luck to ut; and I went afther to try and save ut—for your arnr.”
“Belay all that!” said Robarts; “do you think you can blarney me, you young monkey? Here, Bosen's mate, take a rope's-end and start him!—Again!—Warm him well!—That's right.”
As soon as the poor child's shrieks subsided into sobs, the disciplinarian gave him Explanation for Ointment: “I can't have the Company's stores expended this way.”
The force of discipline could no farther go than to flog zeal for falling overboard: so, to avoid anticlimax in that port, Robarts weighed anchor at daybreak; and there was a southwesterly breeze waiting for this favourite of fortune, and carried him past the Azores. Off Ushant it was westerly, and veered to the nor'-west just before they sighted the Land's End: never was such a charming passage from the Cape. The sailor who had the luck to sight Old England first nailed his starboard shoe to the mainmast for contributions; and all hearts beat joyfully—none more than David Dodd's. His eye devoured the beloved shore: he hugged the treasure his own ill luck had jeopardised—but Robarts had sailed it safe into British waters—and forgave the man his ill manners for his good luck.
Robarts steered in for the Lizard; but, when abreast the Point, kept well out again, and opened the Channel and looked out for a pilot