“Of course,” said Fitz, whose face was once more growing flushed.

“Well, I wouldn’t stop up too long. The enemy may fire, and you will be safer down below.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” said the middy coolly; “and of course you are coming too?”

“Coming too? That’s likely, isn’t it?” said Poole contemptuously.

“Just as likely as that I should go and hide.”

“But it’s no business of yours. You are not going to fight.”

“No,” said Fitz, “but I want to see.”


Chapter Forty One.