“Would it?”
“Of course.”
“But, I say,” said the middy, anxiously, “mightn’t he be drowned?”
“Just about as likely as that dogfish he threw at you. Come and look!”
Aleck led the way up the steps, followed by the young officer, and then as they crossed the pier they came in sight directly of the boy, swimming easily, side stroke, for a group of rocks which formed the starting-point of the pier curve, and beyond which were several places where the boy could land.
“He’ll be ashore before we could get near him,” said Aleck.
“What! Shall I have to let him go?” cried the middy.
“Of course! He got a tremendous crack on the legs from Tom Bodger’s stick—he was nearly frightened to death; and he has had a thorough ducking. Isn’t that enough?”
“Well, it will have to be,” said the middy, in a disappointed tone. “I meant him to be treed up and flogged.”
Aleck looked at him in rather an amused fashion.