“I am so sorry, Big,” I whispered; but he did not reply. He went and took hold of his father’s arm.
Old Jonas turned round fiercely, but he smiled directly, and whispered something to Bigley, who fell back with his head drooping, and in a dejected way.
“Now, Captain Duncan, if you please, you will come with us on board the lugger, and we’ll run along to the second bay,” said the lieutenant; “it will not take long.”
“Sir,” said my father, “I have replied to your questions as I was bound, but I am not bound to act as your pilot.”
“Sir,” said the lieutenant, “I demand this service of you as his majesty’s servant. Kindly step on board the boat. Now, Uggleston.”
I shall never forget old Jonas’s fierce scowl as he walked down to the boat, into which he stepped, and remained in the bows, while my father went into the stern-sheets, and was followed by the lieutenant. The bare-legged sailors ran the light gig out, and sprang over the side, seized their oars and backed water, turned her, and began to row with a light springy stroke for the lugger.
“Big, old mate,” I said, “I am so, so sorry.”
“Don’t talk to me,” he groaned. “I never said anything: but I was always afraid of this.”
“Don’t be angry with father,” I said appealingly. “He was obliged to speak.”
“I can’t talk to you now—I can’t talk to you now,” the poor lad groaned more than spoke, as we stood there close to where the waves came running in.