The old man staggered, and would have fallen, had he not caught hold of the scroll head of the sofa. I thought he had fainted, but he gradually recovered himself, and stood erect. There was a long pause. At length he made a step towards us, and said, with an expression of the most bitter irony—"So, gentlemen, Mr De Walden is missing; the only officer missing is a poor young midshipman; a prisoner amongst these savages, forsooth; a prisoner! Oh, God! I could have brooked hearing of his death;—but a prisoner, and in the power of such an enemy! I bless Heaven, that his poor mother has been spared this misery—would that I had also been in my grave before—But, but"—his tone suddenly became fierce and threatening, and he raised his hand close to my face. I thought he would have struck me—"But how came it, Mr Brail—Mr Sprawl and Mr Lanyard there, I see, are both scathless—but you have been wounded, so I will speak to you—How came it, sir, that he is missing? He must have been deserted, sir—forsaken—left to his fate—and such a fate!—while you, my worthy lieutenants," here he turned round fiercely on his two subalterns, "were wisely looking out for a sound skin and safety."
We were all so utterly taken by surprise at this furious climax to what we began to consider the commodore's insanity, that neither the first lieutenant, Lanyard, nor myself, notwithstanding all that had passed, could speak; which gave Sir Oliver time to breathe and continue in the same tone of fiendlike acerbity—"If I live, you shall both answer for this before a court-martial. Yes; and if you escape there, you shall not escape me."
"Commodore—Sir Oliver," said Sprawl, deeply stung; "by Heaven, Sir Oliver, you will make me forget who I am, and where I am. You do me, you do Mr Lanyard, and the whole of the party engaged, exceeding injustice—the grossest injustice; but I will leave the cabin; I dare not trust myself any longer. I have served with you, Sir Oliver, for seven years, in three different ships, and, to my knowledge, we have never, until this moment, had an angry word together"—and here the noble fellow drew himself up proudly—"and I will yet put it to you yourself, when you are yourself, whether in all that time you ever knew me failing in my duty to my king and country—whether, during the whole seven years, you, sir—ay, or any man in the ships we have served in together—can now lay, or ever attempted to lay, any action or deed at my door derogatory to my character as an officer, or that in any the smallest degree sullied my reputation as a gentleman."
This unlooked-for spunk on old Davie's part startled me, and evidently made a strong impression on the excited nerves of the old commodore; especially as Sprawl followed it up, by slowly adding, while the tears hopped over his iron visage—"But, if it is to be so, I will save you the trouble, Sir Oliver, of bringing me to a court-martial"—he paused for a good space—"Sir Oliver Oakplank, I demand it."
The commodore had by this lain down again on the sofa, with his head resting on the pillow, and his arms clasped on his breast, as if he had been an effigy on a tombstone. For a minute he did not utter a word—at length—"David Sprawl, man and boy, I have known you five-and-twenty years; that your promotion has not kept pace with your merits I regret, almost as much as you yourself can do; but, in the present instance, you knew I had been ill, and at your hands I had expected more"——
"I could not help it, Sir Oliver—I had looked for other things; but mine has been a life of disappointment."
Sir Oliver rallied, and rose, ill as he was, and, stepping up to him, he laid hold of old Bloody Politeful's large bony hand—"Mr Sprawl, I—I beg pardon—illness and anxiety, as I said before, have broke me down; to you and Mr Lanyard I offer my apology; as brave men I know you won't refuse it; bad health is my excuse;—but neither of you can imagine the ties that bound me to that beautiful—that most excellent young man, Henry De Walden."
Dick now thought it was his turn, and made a rally—"Why, Sir Oliver, I am sure that neither Mr Sprawl nor myself would yield, even to you, in regard for him." He shook his head. "Indeed, sir, we both knew the poor boy well; and"—here he plucked up more courage, determined in his own mind apparently that he would clap a stopper on their being ridden rough-shod over in this sort of way—but the commodore, far from showing fight, quietly allowed him to say out his say—"We both knew him well—a finer or a braver lad never stepped; and I fancy, when I say so, I answer not only for Mr Sprawl and myself, but for every man who was with us in this ill-fated expedition. Had his rescue depended on our devoting ourselves, you may rely on it, Sir Oliver, either we should not have been here to tell the story, or he would have been alive to tell his own."
The commodore once more lay back on the sofa, covering his face with his hands—"Go on, Mr Lanyard—go on."
"Why, sir, he was with us, safe and sound, until we crossed the bar. I heard him sing out, 'a good omen—a good omen!' just as we jammed the Spanish schooner that had waylaid us, right down on the bank, in the very middle of the bar; but from that very instant of time no man in the ship saw or heard any thing of him."