“Now, Mr Leigh,” he shouted, as he stamped upon the deck with his bare feet; “what have you to say to this?”
“Regular wreck forward, sir,” replied Hilary, who had been examining the extent of the mischief.
“My fate for leaving you in charge,” cried the lieutenant. “Where was the lookout?”
“Two boats coming from the schooner, sir,” said Tom Tully. “They’ve got lanterns, and they’re full of men.”
“Then it’s the vessel we were looking for,” cried Hilary. “Quick, sir, give orders, or they’ll board and take us before we can stir.”
“Mr Leigh,” said the lieutenant, with dignity, “I command this ship.”
He walked slowly to the side, and peered at the coming boats, while Hilary stood fretting and fuming at his side. There was, however, something so ominous in the look of the boats, dimly-seen though they were through the murky night, that the lieutenant did give orders, and cutlasses and boarding-pikes were seized, the men then clustering about their officers.
“She ar’n’t making a drop o’ water,” said the carpenter just then—an announcement which seemed to put heart into the crew, who now watched the coming of the boats.
“Hey! Hoop!” shouted a voice. “What sheeps is that? Are you sink?”
“May I answer, sir?” whispered Hilary.