In another moment there would have been a roar of derisive laughter, but Butters growled out hoarsely and sternly—
“Stand by! D’y’ hear? Steady, my lads! None of that ’ere! Grinning like a set of Cheshire cats! What have you got to sneer at? My word! My word! And a boy like that! That’s what I call genuine British pluck! What a hofficer he’d make!”
“Ay, ay!” cried the carpenter. “Right you are. All together, lads! He is the right sort! Three cheers!”
They were given, with the boatswain pining in, and Fitz winced as he heard them down by the cabin-door; but he was himself again directly, for there was no jarring note of derision in the sound.
Chapter Fifteen.
A miss-fire.
Fitz Burnett felt the next moment as if it would be easier to do that which had never fallen to his lot—board with an excited crew an enemy’s ship, as he stood there for a few brief moments at the cabin-door listening to the heavy breathing and movements of the skipper, sounds which he knew meant that he was being helped back into his berth. For the cabin-door had swung to, and he could see nothing of that which was passing within.
But the task had to be done, and the men’s cheer, rightly interpreted, seemed to have heartened him up, so that feeling more himself, he waited till he heard a heavy sigh of relief which told its own tale, and then giving the door a thrust, he stepped into the little cabin, to face its owner lying extended upon his back.