“I have my doubts about that. When we get to England, if we go there, this vessel will be seized, attached, taken possession of, or something or other of that sort, and we shall all be afloat at loose ends; and how shall we get back to the squadron among the Isles of the Sea? The Prince is not going to wait for us, and we have lost the Madeiras, which I wanted to see more than all the rest of the islands.”
“I heard our vice-principal say that passengers are entitled to salvage if they save a vessel after she has been abandoned, or if they help take her into port after she has been partially disabled; and I suppose Mr. Frisbone will attend to the business, so far as the steamer is concerned.”
“No matter for that: if we get to England, we shall have no vessel to chase the squadron in; and I don’t believe we shall ever find it. I think the cruise of the fleet is ended, as I said.”
“What is the use of beating about the bush all day, Dave? if you have any thing to say, why don’t you say it. What do you mean to do?” demanded Clinch, a little impatiently.
“Are you going in to the recitations, Bob?” asked Gregory, as though this would settle the whole matter.
“No, not if you don’t: I shall follow your lead.”
“That’s all I want to know,” replied Gregory, opening the door of the mess-room, and passing out on the main deck.
“But that isn’t all I want to know,” added Clinch, following him. “If there is going to be a row, I want to know my way into it, and my way out of it.”
“I don’t know that there will be any row,” answered Gregory.
“If you refuse to attend recitations there will be, without any doubt.”