"Bless my soul! And you mean to tell me, Mr. Hardy, that you captured the Glorieuse yourself?"
"No, sir; I was bowled over; but the men fought splendidly, and Ben Babbage—"
"Turnip-tops! I know him! Brother Sol on the brain! but a good seaman. Well, Mr. Hardy, you'll write all that down—plain, mind you, so that I can read it, no finicking spidery scrawl for me, egad! Now run off and get a sawbones to look at that wound of yours, and take a few days' leave ashore. The sooner you're fit for duty the better. We'll take charge of your prize."
"Thank you, sir. But about the leave—if you don't mind, I'd rather not take it at present."
"What in thunder do you want to be at then?"
"You know what happened at Luscombe, sir—at Congleton's Folly?"
"Yes—no; hang me! I remember Blake reported something. He broke into a tower, or something of that sort, and found nothing—wasn't that it?—everything gone, lock, stock, and barrel."
"Yes, sir. I want to find out what is going on in Luscombe now. I can't do it if the smugglers learn that I've come back. Of course they're bound to know that the Fury has been retaken and the Glorieuse brought in a prize; but if my name's kept out of it they won't be on their guard; and if you would allow me a few days' absence, I'd—"
"So you shall, by the Lord Harry!" cried the admiral, without waiting to hear what. "And I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll keep the Glorieuse and the Fury in quarantine. Not a man from either of 'em shall come ashore till you've reported to me. They'd blab if they did. And there's blabbing enough. Egad! Several of our merchantmen have been scooped up lately, and I'll keel-haul the villain who betrays 'em to the French if I catch him. But what about your wound, eh? Won't that be troublesome?"
"'Tis just a flesh wound, sir," replied Jack; "I shall be all right in a couple of days. There's just one thing; may I have the Fury if I find I can use her?"