“Tut, tut!” ejaculated the lieutenant as he turned away and began to pace the deck.
“Beg’n’ pardon, sir, Mr Gurr said—”
“Well, well, well, what did Mr Gurr say? Pity he did not do more and not say so much.”
“Said as his dooty, sir, and would you send the boat for him if you did not think he’d done right.”
“No, sir! His Majesty’s boats are wanted for other purposes than running to and fro to fetch him aboard. Let him stay where he is till he finds Mr Raystoke and brings him back aboard.”
“Dear, dear,” muttered the lieutenant as he walked to and fro. “To think of the boy being missing like this.—Now you, sirs, in with that boat.—Where can he be? Not the lad to go off on any prank.—There, go below and get something to eat, my lads.—All comes of being sent into a miserable little boat like this to hunt smugglers.”
“Ahoy!” came from forward.
“What’s that?” cried the lieutenant, and an answer came from out of the blackness ahead.
“What boat’s that?” shouted the man on the watch. “Mine,” came in a low growl. “What is it?”
“Want to see the skipper.”