“Look here, Mr Murray, if you can’t speak sensibly you’d better hold your tongue,” said the lieutenant angrily. “The captain and Mr Anderson are not likely to make a mistake. Everybody on board was of opinion that this is the same vessel.”
“Then I’ve made a mistake, sir,” said the midshipman. “But that can’t be the skipper, sir,” and he drew attention to a short, stoutish, sun-browned man who was looking over the side.
“Of course it is not, sir. Some English-looking fellow picked to throw us off our guard.”
But the officer in charge began to look uneasy as he scanned the vessel they were rapidly nearing, till the cutter was rowed alongside, several of the crew now plainly showing themselves and looking uncommonly like ordinary merchant sailors as they leaned over the bulwarks.
Directly after the coxswain hooked on, and the lieutenant, followed by two middies and four of the well-armed sailors sprang on board, to be greeted with a gruff—
“Morning. What does this here mean?”
“Why didn’t you heave to, sir?” cried the lieutenant sharply.
“’Cause I was below, asleep,” said the sturdy-looking skipper. “Are you the captain of that brig?”
“No, sir. What vessel’s this?”
“Because,” said the skipper, ignoring the question, “you’d better tell your captain to be careful. He might have done us some mischief. Any one would think you took me for a pirate.”