"Of course, it will involve a little—insincerity," said Mr. Francis.
"You mean we'll have to lie like hell!" said the captain.
"Well, yes," observed Mr. Francis.
"I hope that's understood," said the captain. "But I can't bear to see a fine lad ruined for a bit of squeamishness. Were he thirty he might go hang; but nineteen—Good Lord! one must have a little mercy."
"Where would any of us be now, sir," said Mr. Francis, "if we had each of us received full measure for a boyish error?"
"I know I was a rotten bad egg myself," said Captain Hadow.
"If I may say it without offense, sir," said Mr. Francis, "I think you are taking a very noble course in respect to this unfortunate lad."
"Of course, I don't want you to think I justify desertion," said Hadow quickly, not ill pleased at the compliment. "Gad, sir, it's a shocking thing; bar actual cowardice, I positively know nothing worse. Were Jack my son, I'd rather see him stretched dead at my feet. I tell you, Mr. Francis, that when I first heard the news I was stunned; I felt myself trembling; the dishonor, the infamy of it struck me here." Captain Hadow laid his hand on his heart.
Mr. Francis nodded a silent assent.
"But we'll save him!" cried the captain. "We won't permit this ugly business to blast his life."