As soon as we were clear of the Pen grounds and fairly on our road to Kingston, the skipper said to me—
“Mr Courtenay, do you happen to have noticed that fine frigate, the Minerva, lying just inshore of the flag-ship?”
“Yes, sir, I have,” said I. “She is a beauty, and is said to be a wonderful sailer, especially on a taut bowline. I heard yesterday that her captain is ashore, down with yellow fever.”
“Very true,” answered the skipper. “The poor fellow died this morning, and the admiral has been pleased to give the command of her to me.”
“I congratulate you with all my heart, sir,” said I. “I thought I could read good news in your face this evening when you returned to the dining-room. She is a magnificent vessel, and I sincerely hope that you will have abundant opportunity to distinguish yourself in her. And I hope, sir, that you will take me with you.”
“Thank you, Courtenay, thank you!” exclaimed the skipper, evidently touched by the sincerity of my congratulations; “if we can only manage to fall in with the enemy frequently enough, never fear but I will distinguish myself—if I live. As to taking you with me, I would do so with the greatest pleasure, and as a matter of course, were I permitted to have my own way; but I believe, from what the admiral let drop to me to-night, that he has his own plans for you, and, if so, you may rest assured that they will be far more to your advantage than would be your accompanying me to the Minerva. Let me see—how much longer have you to serve before you are eligible for examination?”
“Only four days more, sir,” I answered, with a laugh; “then I shall go up as early as possible.”
“Only four days more?” exclaimed the skipper in surprise; “I thought it was more like two months!”
“Only four days, I assure you, sir,” repeated I.
“Um! well, I suppose you know best,” was the answer, given in a musing tone, to which was presently added, “So much the better! So much the better!”