'Yes, is it here?' said the boy eagerly, and trying to lift his head; 'there are French papers in it, despatches I think. I dived after them when they threw them overboard; I kept them as dry as I could.'
'Safe they are, sir, and wonderful dry considering,' said one of the men after a hasty examination.
'You bean't the young gent from the Mermaid frigate, I suppose?' said another, pushing his head into the group.
'I'm Godfrey Wyndham, H.M.S. Mermaid', said the boy faintly, and then, with sudden eagerness, 'Do you know anything about her?'
'Safe in Plymouth, sir, with a nice prize behind her. Every one taking on fine about you, sir.'
'Thank God!' the boy said simply and reverently. At the same moment there was an exclamation:
'What's wrong with the gentleman?'
The stranger had pushed his way through the group and was leaning over the boy, looking whiter than Godfrey himself, and with a strange hungry gaze in his eyes. The kindly fishermen took hold of him, for he was trembling from head to foot.
'You let him be, sir, he'll do all right. Come you below and have a drop o' something, you're dead beat. There, sir, let him be a bit, and he'll talk to you fast enough. He's a tough little heart of oak, he is; let him be a bit and he'll do.'
'What did he say his name was?' said the stranger, kneeling down by the young midshipman and trying to steady his voice.