“Both loaded, sir, and cocked,” said the gunner quietly. Hilary nodded, and stood thinking.
It was an awkward time for quiet thought, for he knew that the men were anxiously awaiting some order; but, for the reasons above given, no order came, and the force of his position came with crushing violence upon the young officer’s head.
He knew that the lieutenant was to blame for not being prepared for an attack, however little it might be anticipated; but at the same time he would have to share the lieutenant’s disgrace as second officer—the disgrace of a well manned and armed king’s ship falling into the hands of a pack of smugglers.
He knew, too, that if he had proposed taking precautions, Lieutenant Lipscombe would have laughed at him, and refused to take his advice; but he would have felt more at rest if he had made the suggestion.
But the mishap had happened, and according to the old proverb it was of no use to cry over spilt milk. What he felt he had to do now was to find a cow and get some more.
But how?
By the sounds on deck it was evident that the cutter had been seized by quite a strong party, and it was no less certain that they would not have made so desperate a move if they had not some particular venture on the way. What Hilary felt then was that he must not only turn the tables on the attacking party, but try and make a valuable capture as well.
But again—how?
He could not answer the question, but as he tried to solve the difficulty the feeling was strong upon him—could he manage to do this before the lieutenant recovered?
The excitement produced by this idea was such that it drove away all thoughts of peril and danger, and he could think of nothing but the dash and daring of such an exploit.