“The devil!” ejaculated Lieutenant Dabchick, in his flurry using a stronger expression than he would probably have done had ‘old Hankey Pankey’ been on the quarter-deck, rushing into the chart-house on the bridge and snatching up a telescope, which he brought to bear on the horizon in the direction indicated by Adams in the foretop above, whose point of vantage, of course, gave him a wider range of view. “On our weather beam, you say?”
“Ay, ay, sir,” roared back the lookout; “they’re right abreast of our forrud funnel now, sir.”
Mr Dabchick’s hand shook so much from excitement that he could not hold the glass steady; so, propping it up athwart the stanchion at the weather end of the bridge, and sprawling out his legs to give him a good purchase, he worked the telescope about till he at last spotted the objects Adams had seen.
“By the Lord Harry!” exclaimed the lieutenant, “you are right, Adams. I must send down and tell the captain at once.”
With that, he hailed the midshipman of the watch and despatched him with the news to Captain Hankey’s cabin aft; while at the same time he rang the engine-room gong, and shouted down through the voice-tube to tell them below to ‘stand by,’ as probably we would want steam up in a very short time; directing also the coxswains of the boats alongside to make ready, as well as passing the word forward for the boatswain’s mates and the drummer and bugler to be handy when wanted.
This done, all his orders having been issued and executed in less time than I take to tell of it, Mr Dabchick resumed his interrupted, if monotonous, task of walking up and down the bridge; stopping whenever he had to slew round, at the end of his promenade, to take another squint at the dhows, and warning Adams, though that worthy needed no such injunction, to ‘keep his eye on them.’
Mr Dabchick had just sung out this for the second time on getting back to the weather end of the bridge, when Captain Hankey, accompanied by Mr Gresham and a lot of the other officers, rushed on deck, some of them half dressed and buckling on their gear as they came hurrying along.
‘Old Hankey Pankey’ made straight for the bridge, the first lieutenant close at his heels.
“Ha, Mr Dabchick,” cried the captain, as he skated up the iron ladder leading from the deck below to the chart-house, taking three steps at each bound, “so you’ve sighted those beggars at last, eh?”
“Yes, sir,” said the second lieutenant, smiling, and rubbing his hands, having put down his telescope on top of the movable slab on the bridge the navigator had for spreading out his charts; Mr Dabchick assuming an air of great complacency, as if it were entirely through his exertions the dhows had been seen or were there at all—“I think you’ll find ’em there to win’ard all right, sir.”