“I’m very sorry, sir,” said the first lieutenant meekly.
“And so you ought to be, sir! But, as I was telling you, the scoundrel led the second cutter a pretty dance, Munday following him till from the deck here it seemed that all he had to do was to tell his coxswain to put his boat-hook on board the lugger and bring his prisoners alongside here.”
“Well, sir, and he did not?” asked the chief officer.
“No, sir, he did not!” cried the captain angrily; and then he stopped short for a few moments. “Well,” he continued then, “aren’t you going to ask why he didn’t take the lugger a prize?”
“I was not going to interrupt you, sir, but I should be glad to hear.”
“Very good, then, Mr Anderson, I will tell you. It was because the scoundrel played a regular pantomime trick upon us—yes, sir, a regular pantomime trick. Look yonder,” continued the captain, pointing towards the shore. “What can you see there?”
“The edge of the forest that comes down to the bay nearly all round as far as I can make out, sir.”
“Exactly. Well, somewhere over yonder the lugger suddenly sailed out, and of course we were astonished, for no glass that we have on board shows the slightest sign of an opening, while before we had got over our surprise, all of a sudden the second cutter, which went up the river to follow you, popped out of the same place as the lugger. Now, sir, how do you explain? Could you come out of the mouth of the river where you went in, while the second cutter, which I sent up the river after you, came out at the same spot as the lugger? Explain that, if you please.”
“It is simple enough, sir; the little river forks and forms two mouths. I sailed down one, and Mr Munday after we had met sailed down the other in pursuit of the enemy, and came out as you saw. It is quite simple, sir.”
“Then I must be too dense to understand it, Mr Anderson,” said the captain angrily; “and now look here, sir,” he continued, “you tell me that the river has two mouths?”