“Gurr,” he whispered, “don’t say a word to Mr Brough; let me tell him I have come on board.”
“Right, my lad; but you’ll say we found you, and all that. You see, I must make my report.”
“Of course.”
Just then the oars were thrown up and laid alongside, and, as the lieutenant came to the gangway, Archy sprang on to the cutter so sharply that he came rather roughly in contact with his commanding officer.
“How dare you! Why, you clumsy young—” Before he could say more, the midshipman touched his red cap.
“Come aboard, sir,” he said.
“Why? What? Mr Ray—Oh, my dear boy!”
There was not a bit of official dignity in the greeting, for the plump little lieutenant, in his surprise and delight, caught Archy by the arms, then by the shoulders; stared in his face; seized his hands, shook them both, and was about to hug him, but, suddenly recollecting himself, he drew back.
“In with that boat,” he cried sharply. Then, giving the orders to slip the cable, and prepare to make sail, he turned to Gurr.
“I’ll take your report directly, Mr Gurr,” he said. Then, very stiffly, “Take charge of the deck. Mr Raystoke, follow me, sir, to my cabin.”