“You are right, my fine fellow,” answered the young midshipman; “Captain O’Loughlin would give his life at any time to serve this gentleman. See, he is recovering fast,” watching Bill wash the blood from the cut and bathe his master’s face; “he was only stunned.”
“It’s all right! Blow me, if I ain’t as glad as if a ship’s anchor was taken off my breast,” said Bill, as the boat shot up alongside the Onyx corvette—Commander O’Loughlin, Lieutenant Pole, and a number of the crew, crowding and gazing over the bulwarks eagerly.
“Who have you there, Master Burdett?” inquired O’Loughlin, anxiously; “not Mr. Julian Arden wounded, I trust.”
“No, sir,” said the midshipman, “it’s Lieutenant Thornton.”
“What! Sir Oscar de Bracy!” vehemently exclaimed the commander, springing over the side into the boat, with an expression of deep emotion in his manner and voice.
Our hero just then opened his eyes, and made an effort to get up.
“Thank God, he is only stunned,” said O’Loughlin, joyfully, as his friend gazed into his face, with a smile, saying, in a low voice—
“Not the first knock on the head, Patrick, I have had; I am not much hurt; where is Bill, Bill Saunders—you remember him?”
“Here, your honour, here, thank God! and your honour’s nothing the worse. The lubbers thought to pepper us, but his honour, Captain O’Loughlin, gave them a dose they didn’t like to stay to have repeated.”
“My fine fellow, I am glad to see you,” said the commander of the Onyx, shaking Bill’s hand as warmly as he would have done that of a friend; “I thought if ever one was heard of, the other would not be far off.”