He swung round, walked aft and began sweeping the shore again with his glass, while the master and Dick exchanged glances which meant a great deal.
“He is in a wax,” said Dick to himself, as he walked to the side, and stood shading his eyes with his hands, looking carefully for the signals which did not come.
Two hours more passed away, during which it was a dead calm, and the sun beat down so hotly that the seams began to send out little black beads of pitch, and drops formed under some of the ropes ready to come off on the first hand which touched them.
At last the little lieutenant could bear the anxiety no longer.
“Pipe away the men to that boat there,” he said; and as the crew sprang in. “Now, Mr Gurr,” he said, “I’m only going to say one thing to you in the way of instructions.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Will you have the goodness to wait till I have done speaking, Mr Gurr, and not compel me to say all I wish over again?”
“Beg pardon, sir,” said the master deprecatingly.
“I say, sir, I have only one order to give you. Get ashore as soon as you can, and find and bring back Mr Raystoke.”
“Yes, sir,” cried the master, and he walked over the side, glad to get into the boat and push off, muttering the while, “and I always thought him such a quiet, amiable little chap. He’s a Tartar; that’s what he is. Making all this fuss about a boy who, as like as not, is having a game with us. Don’t see me getting out o’ temper with everybody, and spitting and swearing like a mad Tom-cat. Hang the boy! He’s on’y a middy.—Now, my lads,—now, my lads, put your backs into it, will you?”