An hour afterward he was wakened by the boat drawing up to the side of the fire-ship. Ahead, he could see the Constitution’s boat carrying the towline. The mist was denser still on the water, through which the hulls and spars of the ships loomed with vague grandeur. The Siren and the Argus were getting under way; and standing at the low rail of the ketch were two dark figures—Somers and Decatur.
Somers had taken a ring from his finger, and, breaking it in two, gave one half to Decatur and put the other half in the breast of his jacket.
“Keep that, Decatur,” he said, “in case we should never meet again. I need not ask you to remember me——” Here Somers could say no more.
Decatur put both hands on Somers’s shoulders, and his lips moved, but no sound came. Utterly overcome with emotion, he turned silently away, got into his boat, and was quickly on board his ship, where, in his cabin, for a few moments he gave way to a burst of tears, such as he had not known since he could remember.
Somers descended into his boat, the towline was made fast, and, with the ketch’s sails set to catch the faint breeze, soon the “infernal” was making fast through the dark water. The Siren and Argus, having got up their anchors, followed the ketch at a distance, under short canvas.
The boats and the “infernal” were fast leaving the brigs astern in the murky night, when Somers, who was sitting in the stern sheets, felt something moving close by him, and, glancing down, he recognized in the uncertain light Pickle Israel’s laughing eyes peering up mischievously at him.
“Why—what is this?” he asked, amazed.
“Nothing, Captain Somers, only me,” answered Pickle, scrambling up from under the gunwale. “I wanted to go, sir, very much, on this expedition, just as I did on Captain Decatur’s, and nobody would let me; so I took French leave, and came by myself.”
Somers, although vexed with the boy, and alarmed at having him on board, yet could not but admire his pluck.
“Did any man on this boat help you to get aboard?” he asked.