“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“Said he’d mast-head the next fellow who asked leave to go ashore.”
“Strikes me we’re off somewhere directly,” said Roylance. “Let’s send Belton into the cabin to ask his father what he’s going to do.”
“I shouldn’t like to be Belt then,” said Jenkins. “Fancy the captain’s face. Hullo! What’s that?”
“Somebody coming on board.”
“No! it’s up anchor. We’re off again.”
“What a shame!” was chorussed; but the disappointment was forgotten directly in eagerness to know their new destination, somewhere else evidently in the deep blue western sea, and as the Orion was weighing anchor too, it was likely that they were going to have stirring times.
“Two trim frigates,” said Roylance, as they leaned over the taffrail and watched the beautiful receding shore. “Ah, Belt, if we were to meet those Mounseers now, I don’t think your father would run away.”