Mark shook his head.
“Oh, Mr Vandean, sir, look at her. She’s another schooner about the same cut as this, and though she can see us, she isn’t showing us her heels, for she don’t know there’s a man-o’-war’s crew aboard, headed by the smartest young midshipman in the ryle navy.”
“That’ll do, Tom Fillot. No gammon, please.”
“It ain’t gammon, sir,” cried Tom, sturdily, “but the solid truth. Think I’d come and ask you to do this if I didn’t feel what a plucky young orficer you are? Why, the lads’ll follow you anywheres. They like Mr Howlett, too, but do you think they’d follow him like they do you? Not they, sir.”
“It’s very tempting,” said Mark, hesitating.
“Tempting, sir? Why, Captain Maitland and Mr Staples’d both go wild with delight if they got such a chance as has come right to you.”
“And she isn’t running away, Tom?”
“No, sir, but just quietly going on her course, and if you do the same it will bring you both close together, and like enough she’ll try to speak you.”
“Yes, Tom, it is very tempting, and if I could feel sure of taking her, I’d try.”
“Don’t you think anything about it, sir. You make up your mind to take her, and send me aboard, or go yourself, and she’s yourn.”