“Nothing, sir; only the captain wishes to know how many men are killed and wounded.”
“Tell him I do not know: surely he does not want me on deck?”
“He wants to know how many men are hurt, sir,” replied I, for I perceived that he thought that the message was sent to him.
“Mercy on me! Stop a minute, Mr Keene, and I’ll send up word by you.”
“I can’t stop, sir,” replied I, going up the ladder.
Mr Culpepper would have called me back, but I preferred leaving him in his error, as I wished to see which he most dreaded, the captain’s displeasure or the shot of the enemy.
I returned on deck and made my report. The captain looked very grave, but made no reply.
I found that the two frigates were now lying stern to stern, and firing occasional guns, which raked fore and aft. Except the men who worked the guns aft, our people were lying down at their quarters, by the order of the captain.
“If we only had but a capful of wind,” said the captain to the first lieutenant, “but I see no appearance of it.”
I touched my hat and said, “The moon will rise in about ten minutes, sir, and she often brings the wind up with her.”