“All, sir,—even Bob Cross, the boatswain, whose head was half knocked off, is quite well again. He was Lord de Versely’s coxswain, sir, and you were kind enough to give him his warrant.”
“I recollect—a good man, is he not?”
“So good, sir, that the only regret I have in leaving the schooner is, that I cannot take him with me. He is my right-hand man and I owe much to him, and it will be a sore blow to him as well as to me.”
“I see, you want him made boatswain of your brig—that’s it.”
“I assure you, admiral, I should be most grateful if you would have that kindness.”
“I am always ready to promote a good man; your recommending him, and his severe wound, are sufficient. He shall be your boatswain, Keene.”
“You are very kind, sir,” replied I. “I hope I shall do justice to your patronage.”
“I’ve no fear of that, Keene, and I know that a man, to work well, should, as far as he can, choose his own tools. Mr Dott is waiting now, and as soon as he has his acting order, I will send him in to you.”
About ten minutes afterwards Mr Tommy Dott made his appearance; he extended his hand to me, saying, in a haw-haw way, “Keene, my dear fellow, I’m glad to see you.” He certainly did look two or three inches taller, for he walked almost on tiptoe.
“Glad to see you, Tommy,” said I; “well, what’s the news?”