Gascoigne was under the half-deck waiting to receive his friend, for he had seen him come up the side from his station on the forecastle. A hurried conversation took place, after our hero had dismissed his boat with the assistant-surgeon in it to dress the two wounded men. Jack then went on deck, talked with the officers, looked with pleasure at the Rebiera with the gun-boat in tow, keeping company with the frigate, although only under the same canvas—promised Gascoigne to spend the next day with him either on shore or on board of the Rebiera, and then returned to the cabin, where he had a long conference with Captain Sawbridge.
“When you first entered the service, Easy,” said Captain Sawbridge, “I thought that the sooner the service was rid of you the better; now that you have left it, I feel that it has lost one, who, in all probability, would have proved a credit to it.”
“Many thanks, sir,” replied Jack; “but how can I be a midshipman with eight thousand pounds a year?”
“I agree with you that it is impossible:— but dinner is serving; go into the after-cabin and the steward will give you all you require.”
Our hero, whose face and hands were not a little grimed with the gunpowder, washed himself, combed out his curly black hair, and found all the party in the fore-cabin. Gascoigne, who had not been asked in the forenoon, was, by the consideration of Captain Sawbridge, added to the number. Before dinner was long off the table, the first lieutenant reported that it was necessary to turn the hands up, as they were close to the anchorage. The party, therefore, broke up sooner than otherwise would have been the case; and as soon as the Latona’s sails were furled Captain Sawbridge went on shore to acquaint the Governor with the results of the action. He asked Jack to accompany him, but our hero, wishing to be with Gascoigne, excused himself until the next day.
“And now, Easy,” said Gascoigne, as soon as the captain had gone over the side, “I will ask permission to go on board with you—or will you ask?”
“I will ask,” replied Jack; “a gentleman of fortune has more weight with a first lieutenant than a midshipman.”
So Jack went up to the first lieutenant, and with one of his polite bows hoped, “if duty would permit, he would honour him by coming on board that evening with some of his officers, to see the Rebiera and to drink a bottle or two of champagne.”
The first lieutenant, as the Rebiera was anchored not two cables’ lengths from him, replied, “that as soon as he had shifted the prisoners and secured the gun-boat, he would be very glad;” so did three or four more of the officers, and then Jack begged as a favour that his old friend, Mr Gascoigne, might be permitted to go with him now, as he had important packages to entrust to his care to England. The first lieutenant was very willing, and Gascoigne and our hero jumped into the boat, and were once more in all the confidence of tried and deserved friendship.
“Jack, I’ve been thinking of it, and I’ve made up my mind,” said Gascoigne. “I shall gain little or nothing by going home for my promotion: I may as well stay here, and as I have served my time and passed, my pay is now of little consequence. Will you take me with you?”