“Patience,” said Murray merrily, taking up the captain’s words. “Patience! You boys—hot-blooded boys are always in such a hurry. Wait a bit, old chap, and when we catch up to the Yankee we’re to have a turn at the boarding. You’ll have a try, eh?”
“Will I?” said the boy, screwing up his features and setting his teeth hard. “Will I! Yes!”
“Mean it?”
“Yes, I believe so,” said Roberts thoughtfully. “I felt ready for anything when those war canoes were coming on, and I believe I should feel just the same if the lads were standing ready to board the schooner. But I don’t know; perhaps I should be all of a squirm. I don’t want to brag. It all depends. Those who make the most fuss, Frank, do the least. We shall see.”
“Yes,” said Murray, looking at his comrade with a curious, searching gaze; “we shall see.”
Chapter Fifteen.
The Doctor is Riled.
It was with a peculiar feeling of relief that all on board the sloop passed out into the open and saw the dull green banks of the mangrove forest fading away astern. For there had been a haunting feeling of depression hanging over the vessel which seemed to affect the spirits of officers and men.