The lieutenant from the frigate kept getting up and going on deck to listen to the firing, which was very heavy in the distance, though nothing could be seen, and he exclaimed once against the great headland, the Ram’s Nose, which shut off the view.
“It’s so hard,” he said; “here have I been longing for an engagement, and the first one that turns up I am away from my ship, and cannot even see the fun.”
I saw my father, who was wincing with pain, smile at the lieutenant’s idea of fun.
“Why, you are safer here,” he said.
“Safer!” exclaimed the lieutenant contemptuously. “Now, Captain Duncan, would you have liked it when you were on active service?”
“That I certainly should not, sir.”
“Ah, well,” said the lieutenant, “I suppose I must be contented with our little prize here. This Gualtière has long been wanted. A most successful smuggler, sir.”
The conversation was ceasing to interest me, so I went on deck, when the middy came up to me directly from where he was standing listening to the firing.
I looked at him with the eyes of admiration, for his uniform, dirk, and pistols gave him a warlike aspect, and besides he was in temporary command of the sturdy Jacks who were overawing the smuggler’s men.
“Won’t you sit down?” he said, turning up a little keg.