Midshipmen always sleep under every variety of disturbance, either of body or mind; so William Thornton slept in ten minutes as if he had not had a night’s rest for twelve months.
How long he rested he knew not, but he was awoke by the voice of Charles Pole shouting in his ear, “You are wanted, William, in the state room.”
He sprang out of bed, and began dressing as if for a wager.
“Why did you let me sleep so long, Charley, eh?”
“Because Lieutenant Cooke said you wanted a good snooze, as you had none the night before. Why, Thornton, you are likely to turn out quite a hero of romance; there’s Saunders been spinning a frightful yarn of your having shot a lot of Republicans and released two princesses, and I don’t know how many duchesses, and gained a casket of crown jewels.”
“Stuff and nonsense, Charley. I’m off. I’ll tell you all about it when I come back. I’ll get Saunders’ grog stopped for spinning such confounded yarns,” and running up the stairs, he made his way towards the Admiral’s state room, but O’Loughlin interrupted his course, shaking him by the hand.
“Faith, you’re a broth of a boy, William, to be galivanting duchesses and distressed damsels before you are fledged. Go on and prosper, by the time your beard grows you’ll do. But be off with you, and mind your P’s and Q’s before the Admiral.”
He next encountered Lieutenant Cooke coming from the Admiral’s cabin.
“Well, Thornton,” said the Lieutenant, good-humouredly, “how do you feel now? Your little protégée has been making a hundred inquiries after you; she is sitting at breakfast with his lordship, who, strange to say, after listening to her account of herself, seems to know a great deal about her family. But go in, they are waiting for you.”
The young midshipman entered the Admiral’s state room, and at once perceived little Mabel sitting at the breakfast table with the kind-hearted old Admiral. On his entrance she sprang from her chair with an exclamation of joy, and ran to him, taking his hand, saying—