“But we shall bag four or five of them, any way, lieutenant,” said one of the men,—“those in the boat down there.”
And then Ned started and turned pale; but it was too late. Tom and two others had already landed, and were in the hands of two or three of the rebel pickets.
“O Tom, Tom!” cried Ned, “why did you not turn back?”
But Tom did not answer, and only stared vacantly and stupidly at Ned.
“The captain’s sick, sir,” said one of the men who had been captured.
“Drunk, more likely,” said the rebel lieutenant, with an oath.
“He was taken in the boat,” continued the man.
“It is as I feared,” said Ned; “he is in a high fever, as I was.” At this the rebel lieutenant drew back. “Oh! it is not contagious,” said Ned, with a world of scorn in his voice; and the rebel lieutenant resumed his former position.
“Tom, don’t you know me?” asked Ned. “Oh, what will be the end of this, I wonder!”