The boat started back with the doctor, while the other took out an anchor right astern, the capstan was rigged, a good strain got upon the cable, and after a great deal of tugging with the handspikes the men gave a hearty cheer and began to strain harder, for the tide had risen a little, and the schooner gradually glided off into deeper water.
An answering cheer came back from the Nautilus, and a signal was hoisted, which Mr Russell read to mean, “Well done!”
Five minutes after they were lying at anchor, and Tom Fillot took the opportunity of passing to whisper to Mark,—
“We did tug at them bars, sir. It means no end o’ prize-money—the saving of a smart craft like this; but, beg pardon, sir, ain’t we going to have a bit of a wash and swab?”
“More signals, sir,” cried Bob, who was watching the Nautilus and the flags being run up.
“Yes, I see,” said the lieutenant. “Take the boat, Mr Howlett, and ask for stores to be sent on board here. We are to remain.”
Bob looked disappointed, and then pleased.
“You’re in for it, Van,” he whispered, as they walked to the gangway. “I say, shall I send you a bottle of eau-de-cologne with the stores?”
Mark made a gesture as if to kick him, but Bob dropped down into the boat, was rowed off, and in due time the supplies arrived.
“Not quite the sort of duty we expected, Vandean,” said the lieutenant, “but we must take the rough with the smooth, I suppose.”