“No, madam, I implore.”
With a terrible look at Commins she went forward, and with a smiling face, though her hands were clenched, she thanked them.
The men touched their caps, but they lingered, casting puzzled glances at the Captain and Lieutenant.
“If so please you, mam,” said the big Quartermaster in deep tones, “we’d like to know what’s been said by way of thanks to the Captain for the handsome way he took the ship into action, and to the Lieutenant for the way he worked ‘The Ghost’ Isn’t it so, mates?”
There was a deep growl of assent.
“My men,” said the Captain, in a deep bass that had a thrilling touch of emotion in it, “I am pleased with you, and I think you are satisfied with me and with the ship. And all of us are proud of the young lady, who, trusting herself fully in our keeping, has so bravely shared our dangers.”
“Three cheers for the lady,” sang out Dick the Owl; and “God bless her!” chimed in the Quartermaster.
The ship rang again to the shouts of the men, and Commins slipped below.
Miss Laura coloured, then grew white, but the Captain was too experienced a man to show his triumph, though he could not forbear one shot:
“If you will allow me, madam, I will go to my cabin, for I have been on the bridge all night.”