This incident of our rencontre with Merlani (for we subsequently learned that it actually was he) was the last occurrence worthy of record which befell us on our somewhat eventful cruise; for after losing sight of the suspected schooner we never fell in with another sail of any description until we entered Port Royal harbour, where we arrived, after a pleasant but somewhat tardy passage, exactly one week after our fight in the Conconil lagoons. I may as well here state, parenthetically, that, under Sanderson’s skilful hands and assiduous care, all the wounded, myself included, did marvellously well; and though some of the poor fellows, on arrival, had to be removed to the hospital, every one of them eventually recovered. As for me, contrary to all expectation the excitement and exertion to which I had been unavoidably exposed did me no harm whatever; and on the morning of our arrival I was able to dispense with the cumbersome and unsightly swathing of turban-like bandages which I had up to then been compelled to wear, a liberal application of sticking-plaster being all that I thenceforward required until my wound was completely healed.
Our black pilot berthed us, at my request, close under the guns of the flag-ship; and our anchor had scarcely taken a fair grip of the ground before I found myself seated in the stern-sheets of my gig, with my carefully written report in my hand, en route for an interview with the admiral I found the old gentleman on the quarter-deck of the Mars, up and down which he was stumping in evidently no very amiable mood. Something or other, I forget what, had put his temper out of joint; and he was expressing himself with a freedom, vigour, and fluency of language which I have seldom heard equalled, certainly never surpassed. He was inclined to be ironical, too; for on my presenting myself before him he brought up abruptly, and, surveying me fiercely for a moment, exclaimed:
“Well, young gentleman, pray, who may you be, and what do you want, if I may venture so far as to make the inquiry?”
“I am Mr Lascelles, sir, of the schooner Foam, just arrived; and I have come on board to make my report,” I replied.
“Oh!” said he, somewhat less sternly, “you are Mr Lascelles, of the schooner Foam, are you? And pray, sir, where is Mr O’Flaherty, that you should find it necessary to discharge his functions? He is not wounded, I hope?”
“I regret to say, sir, that he is dead,” said I.
“Dead!” he repeated; “tut, tut; that is bad news, indeed. Here, come into my cabin with me, and sit down; you look as pale as a ghost, and have been wounded yourself, if that fag-end of sticking-plaster which I see projecting beneath the rim of your hat has any significance. There, take a chair, help yourself to a glass of wine, and make yourself comfortable,” he continued, as we reached his cool, roomy cabin. “Give me your report, and let me have a short verbal account of how you got on and what has befallen you. You brought in a prize with you, I see, and a very fine craft of her class she seems to be. There, now, fire away with your yarn.”
I refreshed myself with a sip of the old gentleman’s very excellent Madeira, and then proceeded to give him an outline of the principal events of our cruise, my narrative being frequently broken in upon by him with questions of a decidedly searching character in reference to such matters as seemed to him to require further elucidation.
At the close of my narrative the old gentleman rose from his seat and shook me warmly by the hand, exclaiming:
“Well done, my dear boy; well done! You have behaved admirably, and with a discretion far beyond your years. Had I known as much at the outset as I do now I need not have sent Mr O’Flaherty at all. Poor fellow! he was a good officer and a brave man, none braver, but he was rash. He had seen a great deal of boat service, and I thought—well, well! never mind. It is a pity he gave the alarm to those feluccas so prematurely, though. I am very pleased with you, young gentleman, and with your shipmate too—very pleased indeed. You got out of two bad scrapes very cleverly, to say nothing of the way in which you afterwards weathered upon the arch-pirate himself. Ha! ha! that was neatly done, upon my word. You did quite right, my boy, not to turn your stern to him. Never turn tail to an enemy, even though he be big enough to eat you, until the very last moment, nor then, if you think you have the ghost of a chance of thrashing him. Which does not mean, however, that, when retreat is necessary, you are to stay until it is too late and be eaten. I should have liked to see the fellow chuckling to himself as he thought how cleverly he had hoodwinked you. Poor chap! he little dreamed that you were walking off with all his hard-earned savings snugly stowed away beneath your cabin-floor. And it shall not be so very long, please God, before we will have him also and his crew safe in irons. Well, well! Now, be off aboard your hooker again, and see all ready for turning over the prisoners and the plunder; and, harkye, youngster, come and dine with me at the Penn to-night. Seven, sharp! and give my compliments to your shipmate, and say I shall be glad to see him too.”