“And glad indeed I am that I undertook to do so,” exclaimed Chapin. “If it hadn’t been for you, Pembroke, I am afraid my sister would have been lost.”
Pembroke was now engaged in shaking hands with Dalzell, who felt obliged to present him to Ensign Hale.
“A splendid rescue, that,” said Hale warmly.
The gunboat’s launch was now speedily alongside the “Castoga,” the motor boat, a small craft that carried passengers on the bay for hire, following at slower speed.
“We’ve a half-drowned young lady on board, who needs the surgeon’s attention,” called Hale, between his hands, just before the launch ran alongside.
Miss Chapin was immediately taken on board, and carried to the quarters of the executive officer, where she was laid in a bunk. Only her brother and the surgeon remained with her.
Dave felt obliged to introduce Pembroke to his brother officers. The Englishman proceeded to make their acquaintance with evident delight.
Five minutes later the executive officer recovered his presence of mind sufficiently to send ashore to Cavite for dry garments of a size suitable for Miss Chapin’s use. In an hour or two that young lady, revived and attired in dry clothing, was brought on deck on her brother’s arm. She was weak, but out of danger.
“We came out in order to make a call aboard,” Captain Chapin explained to the officers under the quarter-deck awning, “but we had no idea we were going to make such a sensational visit.”
“I fancy that women are always nuisances aboard naval craft,” smiled Miss Chapin, whereupon the assembled officers promptly assured her that women were nothing of the sort.