Captain Chubb, who had listened, frowning heavily the while, uttered a low grunt.
“And a very fine bit of seamanship, sir,” he said, and the officer turned to him and raised his hat.
“It was desperate, sir,” he said gravely, “and I knew that I was risking the lives of my dear son and all on board; but no man there shrank. Well, sir, my story is long, but I must excuse myself for my conduct here. It is enough. We battled with the storm, as you saw, and escaped.”
“I always said you had gone down,” grunted Captain Chubb.
“No, sir. We escaped with but one wound, and that was to my poor vessel; and since the night when we left Havre-de-Grace upon my mission it has been one long struggle, as you would say, for life.”
“Indeed, sir?”
“Yes,” said the officer sadly, and he pointed over the side towards where the beautiful duck-like brig with its taper spars sat the smooth sea, but with a steady stream of water trickling down her side. “My chief officer and my men have worked in every way they knew long days and weeks; but it is of no use. I would not give up the great object upon which I have come, but it is forced upon us at last that before many days have gone over our heads that vessel will lie far down in the depths of the ocean. Do you not see how low she is in the water?”
“Eh?” cried the skipper eagerly. “Eh? I thought she was low down with cargo. You’ve sprung a leak?”
“A cannon ball crashed through her, sir, and we have never been able to master that leak.”
“Then why in the name of thunder didn’t you put into port?” cried the skipper contemptuously.