“Old Staples was in a passion because you were so long, and hit me over the head with his speaking trumpet.”
“Get out—and we weren’t so long as you were first time. Russell said so. What was it? He wouldn’t dare to hit you.”
“But he did; swung round just when I was behind him.”
“Serve you right for being behind him.”
“What?” cried Mark, furiously.
“No, no, I mean serve him right for being before you.”
“Less talking, young gentlemen,” cried the officer of whom they were speaking, and he looked round at them so sternly that they separated, each hurrying to his post, and, glass in hand, watching the distant schooner.
“Look here, Mr Russell,” said the captain, walking up to that officer, as, once more, they began to near the white-sailed vessel gliding along in the brilliant moonlight. “If that scoundrel tries his cowardly scheme again, I shall drop you to pick up the poor wretch, and keep on as hard as we can, or we shall lose her. Save the poor fellow, and then pull steadily after us. I think I can overhaul her in less than half-an-hour, and then I shall heave to, and wait for you to come aboard.”
The second lieutenant saluted, and the captain went forward to watch the schooner.
“Are you coming with me this time, Vandean?” said the lieutenant.