“Put me down,” she gasped.
At the steps he put her down, and, with tears of mortification in her eyes, she soundly boxed his ears, then went down the steps to the deck, and into the saloon, while he stood with a curious feeling that what he had done bound her to him.
“What’s the matter with your cheek?” said Webster, coming up; “seems to be redder on one side than the other. There, now, don’t get angry. Lord love you, I’d sooner face that cruiser than attempt to carry the Commodore; but I thank you for it, my son. The sight of her up here put my heart in my mouth. Are you going to run ’em down, sir, or blow ’em up?”
The Captain had his glass to his eye again, and held it there for some time, slowly sweeping the sea.
“Neither, Mr Webster,” he said finally, with a sigh of satisfaction, “I am going to steam at half-speed.”
He signalled to the engine-room.
“Hoist the distress signal, Mr Webster, that’ll serve the purpose.”
“Do I understand, Captain Pardee, that you intend to give this vessel up?”
“Understand what you like, my lad, but do what I order.”
The ship had got a tremendous way on, but she perceptibly slackened speed, and the sailors, noticing this, got together in a group, directing surly glances at the bridge.