“Miss Beulow,” said Captain Johnson, in a gruff voice, “we have found you, after due deliberation, to be guilty of the charge against you.”
Alice Beulow staggered back, and the captain stopped speaking. The British commander cleared his voice of a huskiness that had crept into it, pulled himself together, and continued firmly:
“And the sentence of this court-martial is that you be shot to-morrow morning at eight o’clock!”
CHAPTER XXIII.
“THE BOY ADMIRAL.”
As Frank announced his intention of going alone to save Alice Beulow from the death of a spy, he sprang across the deck in the direction of the little launch.
Lord Hastings jumped quickly after him, and Jack, who had stood silently nearby, during the conversation, also gave chase. Except for these three, the deck in this part of the vessel was unoccupied.
As Frank reached the rail, Jack grabbed him by the arm.
“Don’t be a fool!” he cried.
“Mr. Chadwick!” cried Lord Hastings, hurrying up, “return to your quarters immediately!”
Frank shook off Jack’s detaining hand.