“My dear old friend,” said Captain Lawrence sympathetically, “I shrink from dashing your hopes, but I feel how unjust it would be to back you up in the idea that he may have gone with the impressed men. He is a gentleman, and an English officer’s son, and he would only have to open his lips to any one he encountered, and explain his position, to be sent home from the first port he reached.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said the Captain bitterly; “and I shall never see my poor boy again.”
Captain Lawrence was so uneasy about his friend that he went back to the boat and sent her off to the ship, returning afterwards to the house, bitterly regretting that he had sent his men ashore and allowed himself to be tempted into making a seizure of the poachers.
Captain Revel was seated in his arm-chair when Captain Lawrence re-entered the house, looking calm, grave, and thoughtful. His friend’s coming made him raise his head and gaze sorrowfully; then, with a weary smile, he let his chin drop upon his breast and sat looking hard at the carpet.
“Come, Revel, man,” cried Captain Lawrence, “you must cheer up. We sailors can’t afford to look at the black side of things.”
“No, no; of course not,” said the stricken man. “I shall be better soon, Jack; better soon. I’m getting ready to fight it.”
“That’s right; and before long you will have the boy marching into the room, or else sending you a letter.”
“Yes, yes,” said Captain Revel, with a sad smile, and in a manner totally different from that which he generally assumed, “he’ll soon come back or write.”
“But, poor fellow! he does not think so,” said Captain Lawrence to himself, as Nic’s father relapsed into thoughtful silence.
“Solly, my lad,” said the visitor, when he felt that he must return to his vessel, “your master has got a nasty shock over this business.”