“Good heavens, Mr Leigh!” he exclaimed, angrily, “what does this mean? I go and lie down for a few minutes, leaving you in charge of the cutter, and I come up and find her ashore. Brown, Waters! where are you, men? Have you been mad, asleep, or drunk? Oh, my head! Good gracious, why, what’s this—blood?”
He staggered, and seemed about to fall, but Hilary caught his arm.
“I am glad to see you better, sir,” he cried; “but had you not better lie down?”
“Better?” he said—“better?”
“Yes, sir; don’t you remember?”
“Remember? Remember?” he said, staring.
“Yes, sir, the smugglers; they knocked us down and took possession of the ship.”
“Yes, of course, yes,” said the lieutenant eagerly. “I remember now. Of course, yes, Leigh. But—but where are they now?”
“That’s just what I should like to know, sir,” said Leigh, sharply; “we’ve got rid of them, but they ran the little Kestrel ashore.”