“They’ve been in the thick of it,” suddenly exclaimed the other. “Look at the young fellow. He’s covered with blood, and the boat’s cut to pieces; the sides are in ribbons. Why, it must be young Stapleton, about whose safety there has been such a commotion.”
“And the fellow’s done, done altogether,” said the other. “Who are you, sir?”
“Dick Stapleton, sir. Just got through from up country. We met a whole army, about to cross the Prahsu. We got through with some difficulty, as they were already afloat. We’re dead beat, sir, but I can’t sleep till my store of gold is looked to. It’s worth something. Can you help?”
Dick was weary and done up. He had realised that long ago, but the need for effort had kept both pluckily at their posts. Now, however, with the all-protecting arm of the British Navy to watch over them, the desire for sleep was irresistible. Their eyes were more than half closed. And they winked suspiciously when they attempted to look at any one object for long.
“Sergeant of the guard! Put a couple of men aboard at once,” came the order. “Mr Hilden, oblige by going down to the launch and making an inventory. Glad to see you, Mr Stapleton. We’ll talk later. Meanwhile come aboard and leave the gold. It shall be well taken care of. Help him up, my man, and bring him along under the awnings.”
A friendly and firm arm helped Dick from the launch, while another tar took Johnnie in charge. Our hero was almost carried to the deck above and was straightway popped into a hammock. Then some one held a glass to his lips. He drank, and at once fell asleep. He had earned a rest and determined to enjoy it.