“Ay, sir, they’ve dowsed their light now the boats know where to go, and it would be only waste o’ good powder and round shot to go plumping ’em into that there bank o’ blackness out yonder.”
“Well, Mr Leigh, why don’t you fire?” shouted the lieutenant.
“Beg pardon, sir, but there’s nothing to fire at,” replied Hilary.
“Fire at the schooner’s light, sir,—fire at her light,” cried the lieutenant indignantly. “Bless my soul, Mr Leigh,” he said, bustling up. “Here, let me lay the gun, and—eh?—what?—the light out?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then why, in the name of common sense, Mr Leigh, didn’t you fire before it went out?”
“Didn’t get no orders,” growled Billy Waters.
“Silence, sir; how dare you speak!” cried the lieutenant. “But are you sure the light’s out, Mr Leigh?”
“There isn’t a sign of it, sir.”
“Then—then how are we to manage about the boats?”