Chapter Twenty.
After the Fight.
“Bravo, Gnat! Well done, little ’un!” whispered Barkins the next minute, as I walked aft, feeling quite confused, while my headache and sensation of misery passed off as if by magic. “Blacksmith would have done it better, of course; wouldn’t you, Smithy?”
“Done it as well as you would,” said my messmate sulkily; and there was a heavy frown on his brow; but, as he met my eyes, it cleared off, and he smiled frankly. “I say: Well done our side!” he whispered. “What would they do without midshipmen!”
“I say, though,” said Barkins, “we’ve given John Pirate another dressing-down; but what about the plunder?”
“Ah, of course,” said Smith. “Junks both burned, and no swag. What about our prize-money? Eh, Gnat?”
“I wasn’t thinking about that, but about our poor lads. They must have had a sharp fight. I hope no one is hurt.”
My companion were silent for a moment or two. Then Barkins said quietly—
“I thought it would be only the teapots that were broken. Think our chaps were hurt? You couldn’t see?”