"Well, Master Brail—you have had enough of piloting and cutting out," said he, endeavouring to appear cheery and unconcerned—"curiosity quite satisfied I daresay." I was about replying when he continued, addressing the lieutenants.
"You have had some fighting, I suppose—indeed, we heard the firing distinctly enough."
"Yes, commodore," said Sprawl, "enough and to spare of that; but, as you have guessed, we were unable to bring out the polacre—she now lies sunk in the river."
"Well, well," rejoined Sir Oliver, "I will hear the particulars by and by; but I hope you have not lost any, at least not many of the people—none killed I hope?—this horrible climate will leave few of us for gunpowder soon—none killed I hope?—a few wounded, of course, I bargain for"——
Sprawl was silent for a minute, and then handed him the return.—"Indeed, Sir Oliver," said he, "I am grieved to tell you that it has been a bad business; we have lost several excellent men, and our doctor's list is also heavy; however, all the wounded are likely to do well."
The commodore took the paper in his nervous hand, and as he read the official account of our adventure, it shook violently, and his pale lip quivered, as he exclaimed from time to time—"God bless me, how unfortunate! how miserably unfortunate! But, gentlemen, you deserve all praise—you have behaved nobly, gallantly. I have no heart, however, to read the return. You have had how many killed?" turning to Lanyard.
He mentioned the number.
"And wounded?"
He also gave him the information he desired in this respect.
"Merciful Heaven!" groaned the excellent man—"but it cannot be helped—it cannot be helped. Pray," said he, the tone of his voice changed—I noticed it quavered, and he seemed to screw his words through his clenched teeth with difficulty,—all of which surprised me a good deal—"none of the boys—the young gentlemen—none of the midshipmen are hurt, or"——