“In the cabin, sir, wounded.”
“Tut—tut—tut! Signal for the surgeon, Mr Howlett,” he cried; and Bob went off, while the lieutenant looked sharply around.
“Where are the rest of your men?”
“Dance and Grote are in the other schooner we took, sir.”
“Another? Well, this is a curious state of affairs. You are left in charge of a prize—”
“Yes, sir, and we lost her and took her again, and then captured a second prize. Dance and Grote have charge of her. Haven’t you seen her, sir?”
“No—yes. Of course, that is the vessel we sighted just before we attacked here to-day. But the other three men?”
“Don’t know, sir, unless they are prisoners in the forecastle.”
“Go and see, my lads,” cried the lieutenant; and, to the delight of their messmates, the others were set free from where they had been imprisoned.
“Then we are all accounted for,” said Mark, holding his hand to his burning face, “But where are the Yankees, sir?”