“Oh, Mr Bill Smith,” he said to himself, “just wait till we get back!”
And then a reaction took place.
“What’s the good?” he thought. “Poor fellow! He’ll get it hot enough without me saying a word. But how could a fellow go to sleep at a time like this?”
“It’s all up, Burnett,” came in a whisper, close to his ear. “The milk’s spilt, and it’s no use crying over it, but after all these preparations who could have expected such a mishap as that?—What’s the matter with you?” he added sharply. “You’ll have me overboard.”
For the midshipman had suddenly sprung up from where he sat, nearly overbalancing his superior officer as he gripped him tightly by the chest with the right hand, and without replying stood rigidly pointing over the side with his left, his arm stretched right across the lieutenant’s breast.
“You don’t mean—you can see—Bravo, boy!—Pull, my lads, for all you know.”
As he spoke he dropped back into his seat, tugging hard with his right hand at one of the rudder-lines, with the result that as the cutter glided once more rapidly over the little waves she made a sharp curve to starboard, and then as the line was once more loosened, glided on straight ahead for something dim and strange that stood out before them like a blur.
As the men bent to their stout ash-blades, pulling with all their might, a great thrill seemed to run through the cutter, which, as it were, participated in the excitement of the crew, boat and men being for the time as it were one, while the dark blur now rapidly assumed form, growing moment by moment more distinct, till the occupants of the stern-sheets gradually made out the form of a two-masted vessel gliding along under a good deal of sail.
She had so much way on, as the cutter was coming up at right angles that instead of beating fast, Fitz Burnett’s heart now continued its pulsations in jerks in his excitement lest the schooner should glide by them and leave them behind.
It was a near thing, but the lieutenant had taken his measures correctly. He was standing up once again grasping the rudder-lines till almost the last moment, before dropping them and giving two orders, to the coxswain to hook on, and to the crew to follow—unnecessary orders, for every man was on the qui vive, knew his task, and meant to do it in the shortest possible time.